Twice Cursed
by myfeetlitup
Summary: Based heavily on the story "Ella Enchanted," Kurt of Frell is cursed with the gift of obedience.  See what happens when he ventures out into the world, encountering bullies, ogres, elves, faeries, and a dashing prince.
1. Chapter One:  Cursed

**AN: Hi everyone! This fic is based on a lovely little novel by Gail Carson Levine, called Ella Enchanted. I suggest you read it if you get the chance, because it is awesome!**

**Fair warning: for the purposes of the plot, there are some uber cracky pairings and relationships. Exhibit A: In this chapter, we've got Burt and Sue MARRIED and Sue is Kurt's MOM. I know it's bizarre but try to roll with it ;)**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or Ella Enchanted.**

I have been cursed twice in my life. The first, I suppose, occurred as soon as I came into being. I am drawn to boys the way other boys are drawn to girls. I've always been this way, and I do not know anyone else like me, so it is very lonely. It can also be a little scary. I do not lie about who I am, but nor do I shout it from the mountain tops. Still, people seem to be able to sense that there's something different about me. Perhaps it is my voice, unusually high for a boy, or maybe the effort and care I put into my attire and hair and complexion. Whatever the reason, people tend to look at me a little strangely. In the kingdom of Kyrria, it is not against the law to love a person of the same sex, but many people do not approve of such relationships, and news often travels far and wide about violent acts and angry protests committed by people who detest the idea of two men or two women being together. I know there are others out there who must share this curse with me, but I don't know where to find them.

My second curse came about an hour after I was born. That fool faerie Terri thought she was giving me a gift; she could not have been more wrong. I was an inconsolable newborn and would not cease crying, despite the best efforts of Father and our cook, Carol. Mother is prone to fits of rage, and I'm told she began throwing things about the room, screaming that Lady Susan of Frell wasn't afraid of smacking a baby, especially her own. Father and Carol had fled to the next room, and at that moment, Terri appeared. She clucked her tongue sympathetically at Father, touched her wand to my head and said, "My gift to Kurt is obedience. He shall always do what he is told. Now stop crying, child."

I stopped immediately.

Father and Carol were horrified, but no matter how they tried to explain to Terri that this was certainly not a gift, she paid them no heed. I could picture in my mind Father's eyes lit with fire, rising to his son's defense for the first of what would be many times. I could imagine Carol beside him, a hand resting gently on his arm to calm him while still trying to make Terri see reason. It is never a good idea to anger a faerie, especially one as impulsive as Terri.

I couldn't picture Terri. I didn't know what she looked like.

She refused to remove the spell, and Father and Carol agreed not to tell Mother anything about it.

I remember asking Carol if Terri had cursed me twice, if she had made me feel attracted to the same sex as well as obedient. Carol had held me close, pressing me into her soft, comforting torso. "Love is never a curse, sweet. You needn't feel ashamed or afraid of who you are." I remember telling Father a few days later and asking if he was angry with me. He had held my face in his hands; his eyes said everything, but he still spoke: "I love you, Kurt."

I first became aware of my curse of obedience on my fifth birthday. I can remember the day perfectly, perhaps because Carol tells me the story of it so often.

"For your birthday, I had baked two dozen beautiful little cupcakes," she would begin.

Our head maid Shannon had built me a little picnic table, and I had chosen my favorite outfit for the day. In the early afternoon, Father and I had a tea party, and he gave me a pair of sensible heels as a gift, much to my delight.

After dinner, Carol set down a plate of cupcakes in front of me. "Eat," she said absentmindedly.

The first cupcake was delicious. I consumed the second with relish. The third was a little harder to swallow. Father looked at me as I reached for the fifth.

"Kurt, what are you doing?"

Carol looked over and chuckled. "Little piggy! Let him have his fill, Sir Burt; it's his birthday!"

I felt awful, and so scared. Why couldn't I stop? Tears began rolling down my face as I reached for the sixth cupcake. Each bite was now like torture; the sticky mix of icing and cake kept clinging to my tongue and throat as I struggled to force it down.

Father understood what was happening first. "Kurt, stop eating!"

I stopped.

It did not matter who it was that issued me a command; I had to follow it no matter what. If I tried to resist, I would be overcome with intense pain and nausea, which abated as soon as I obeyed. It had to be a direct order, such as "Go to bed," or "You must pick up your toys." I had no troubles ignoring "Why don't you go to bed?" or "I wish you would pick up your toys."

This curse was inconvenient at best, and highly dangerous at worst. Someone could order me to hop on one foot all day. Someone could demand that I give them all my money. Someone could tell me to cut off my own head, and I'd have to do it.

Father had asked my fairy godmother to take away the curse, but she had said that only Terri could remove it. The only other chance was for me to break the curse myself. But I didn't know how, and I didn't know who my fairy godmother was to ask her.

Terri's plan to make me an accommodating and dutiful child backfired spectacularly. Instead, the spell made a rebel out of me. Father rarely demanded that I do anything. Mother knew nothing of the cure, and was rarely around to interact with me. But Carol had a never-ending supply of kind, for-your-own-good orders. "It's cold out, Kurt; your hair doesn't matter. Put on your hat." "Hold this bowl while I stir, sweet." I resented such commands and made this known by obeying them in the most frustrating ways. I would hold the bowl, but move around the kitchen. Carol would laugh and scold me, and then change her instructions, which I would proceed to evade in some other way. We would continue to play this game, with Father watching in amusement and egging us on, until either I chose to obey or Carol changed her command to a request.

When I was nine, I made a friend of one of the servants named Becky. We were playing one afternoon in early winter when Carol came outside and told me to put on my hat. I placed it on my head gingerly as she went back inside and grumbled to Becky.

"I hate it when she's bossy."

Becky looked smug. "I always obey my elders."

"Well, you don't have to," I whined.

"Yes I do! If I don't, Father will slap me."

"It's different for me. Guess what? I'm under a spell!" I suddenly felt important, like the prince or princess in one of the fairy tales Father always read to me. Becky's eyes widened comically.

"Tell me your spell or I will cut you!"

I laughed at her excitement and told her.

"So if anyone gives you an order, you have to obey? Even me?"

"Yes."

"Can I try?"

"No," I snapped out. I hadn't expected this. "Let's have a race."

"Fine. But I command you to lose."

"Let's not race."

"I command you to race, and I command you to lose."

We raced; I lost.

We made flower circlets; I had to give Becky the nicest, most colorful ones. We played princesses and ogres; I had to be the ogre every time. After an hour into our play, I was screaming at her, calling her all sorts of nasty names. She began to cry.

I never saw Becky again. Father found her family a new situation far, far away, and after scolding me for the things I said to Becky, he gave me a rare order: to never tell anyone about the curse. It was unnecessary; I had learned to be careful.

Right after I turned fifteen, Father and I caught cold. Carol whipped up her special curing soup. It had many herbs and vegetables, as well as a single strand of unicorn hair each. Father and I both wrinkled our noses at those hairs floating around in the broth. Carol had ordered that we eat the unicorn hairs, but because Father was not under a curse, he ate everything but, and plucked the hair out. I grimaced as I ate mine.

The next morning I was feeling much better, but Father was looking worse than ever. I applied cool cloths to sooth his fever and held his hand while he slept. I sang to him softly and he would smile in contentment, but then a coughing fit would interrupt our moment. That night, before I left for bed, Father squeezed my hand faintly and said, "Good night, buddy. I love you." That was the last thing he ever said to me.

As I left the room, I heard his last words to Carol: "I'm not even that ill. Don't send for Lady Susan, Carol. I'd rather have you here with me."

The following day, Father was awake, but it was as though he wasn't there. His gaze was unfocused and he mumbled things incoherently under his breath. He didn't speak directly to Carol or myself.

The village physician came calling, and I wandered down the hallway after he shooed me away from Father. I came up to the staircase and thought of all the fun Father and I had had so many times when we slid down the banister. We would slide over and over, running back up the stairs each time, yelling and singing as we sailed down.

I eventually made my way down the stairs and outside, completing the long walk to the old castle just outside of Frell. I wanted to make a wish and knew that it was most likely to be answered if I made it there.

I went to the candle grove, ignoring the skittering of mice and the overgrown vines hanging over my head. To make a wish, I needed to give something in return. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and contemplated what I could offer.

"If Father gets better soon, I will try to accept myself for who I am, and I won't let others shame me for it."

I didn't bargain for Father's life, because I didn't know that he was dying.

**I know I know! It kills me, too! I love Burt! I'm not a fan when fics set in the Gleeverse kill him off, but it is really important for this story.**

**I'll make it up to you: Next chapter, we have Sir Burt's funeral (sob) and Kurt meets Blaine!**


	2. Chapter 2: Funeral

**AN: Here's Chapter 2! Warning: ANGST ahoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or Ella Enchanted.**

I slumped in the pew as High Chancellor Figgins droned on and on. I refused to listen. It wasn't as though he was actually talking about Father. Some of his speech mentioned "Sir Burt," but I did not recognize the person he spoke of. Why didn't he talk about how funny Father could be, how generous? How he would carry Carol off to her bed some nights when she fell asleep in the kitchen instead of waking her. How everyone in our household had loved him so, myself most of all. Most of the speech was about death, and about swearing allegiance to the kingdom of Kyrria and its royal family. The names "King Andrew" and "Prince Blaine" were spoken much more often than "Sir Burt."

I wished I could be with Carol and Shannon and the other servants. Instead, I sat next to Mother, my hand held firmly in hers, her nails digging into my palm ever so slightly. I knew if I tried to withdraw from her grasp she would just grab me again. I wondered if my faerie godmother would send Mother away if I could find her. I wondered if she could bring Father back if I asked.

High Chancellor Figgins stopped speaking, and suddenly everyone was looking at me. It was my duty to close the lid of Father's mahogany casket. I rose shakily to my feet, feeling my knees bucking slightly. Mother put her hands on my back and pushed me forward.

Father's mouth was in a thin line, making his face much more stern than I was used to seeing. His face was blank, and staring at it, I choked back a sob as I lowered the lid. The thought of Father stored away forever in a cramped box was too much.

The tears I had been holding back all day burst forth. I stood in front of the whole crowd of people with tears streaming down my cheeks, unable to stop my loud sobs. Mother rushed forward and pressed me into her chest. To anyone watching, it must have appeared as though she were comforting me, but I knew it was just to stifle my loud wailing. It was to no avail. She leaned down and hissed in my ear, "Get out of here right now, Porcelain. Don't come back until you can keep quiet."

I certainly would not fight against this order. I fled, tripping and falling over the clunky boots I was wearing. I ignored the sting in my knee and palm as I picked myself up and ran out of the room.

I didn't want to see Father's grave, so I ran to the grand weeping willow in the middle of the grave yard. I pushed my way through its curtain of leaves and threw myself down onto the ground, my sobs now completely unrestrained. Everyone had told me how sorry they were for my loss, but the truth was, Father wasn't lost. He was gone, and no matter how long or hard I searched, I would never find him. I would never sing to him again, or hold his hand. We would never joke and laugh together. Or slide down the banister or attempt to pull pranks on Carol. Or a thousand other things.

Once I had cried myself dry, I sat up and frowned down at my mourning outfit. The black silk was wrinkled and covered in dirt. One of the silver chains across the front of my jacket had broken. Carol would have called me a spectacle.

The order Mother had given me had started to bother me. I had no idea how much time had passed, but now that I was quiet, I had to go back. I started to feel a little nauseous, but I was distracted from the feeling momentarily when I realized I wasn't alone. Outside of the veil of my tree, Prince Blaine stood facing a tombstone. I had never been in such close proximity to him before. I blushed faintly; sure that he had heard my loud wailing.

The prince was a year older than I and a little taller. He greatly resembled his father, although Prince Andrew's sharp angles were softened in the youth of his son. They each had dark, almost black curls and a slightly olive complexion. The prince's eyes shifted and met mine, a beautiful shade of hazel.

"An uncle of mine," Prince Blaine said, pointed to the tombstone in front of him. "I never liked him much. I liked your father." He turned and started to walk back towards Father's grave.

I didn't know what to do. Did he expect me to follow? Did I need to maintain an appropriate distance from his highness? I walked at his side, leaving enough room between us for two giants to walk hand in hand. He moved closer. I noticed that he had been crying, too, although clearly with much more dignity than I.

"You can call me Blaine," he mentioned out of nowhere, "There's no need to bother with the title."

I could? I stayed silent.

"It's what all my friends call me," he added.

"Thank you," I managed to squeak out, my voice hoarse from all my crying.

"Thank you, Blaine," he amended with a hint of a smile. For a moment we fell into silence again. Then, "Your father used to make me laugh. At banquets, he would always do silent impressions of Chancellor Figgins as he pontificated. One time he arranged the food on his plate to look like the chancellor's profile, with the mouth hanging open and the bulbous little nose. I saw it before your mother managed to mess it up, and I had to excuse myself from the hall to go outside and laugh."

We were almost back; I could see Mother standing by Father's grave. It seemed as though the crowd had dispersed.

"Where did everyone go?" I asked Blaine in surprise.

"They were all leaving as I came to find you," he replied. "Did you want them to stay?" He sounded concerned, as though perhaps he should have made them all stay.

My chin jutted out. "No, I didn't want anyone to stay." I would have been happy if Mother had left as well.

"I know all about you;" Blaine offered, "our cooks meet and gossip in the market. Do you know much about me?"

Carol had never mentioned the prince. "No. What do you know about me?"

"I've heard that you sing beautifully, and that you are very passionate about current trends in court fashion. I know that you are funny like your father, but perhaps a bit more biting in your style of humor. Once, you reduced Lady Rachel of Berry to tears with your sharp wit."

"She had been screeching at me for the past hour!"

"I heard that you were screeching right back at her." He laughed then, but it wasn't to mock me. It was a good natured laugh, and it sounded smooth, like freshly churned butter.

We had arrived at Father's grave, and Mother greeted Blaine with a curtsy, eyeing the oils that coated his curls with something akin to suspicion. "My thanks, Your Majesty, for finding my son."

Blaine answered this with a graceful bow.

"Come, Porcelain." I flushed a little. I wished she would not call me that, especially in front of the prince. I could never tell if it was spoken with affection or ridicule for my fair skin.

As we said our goodbyes to Prince Blaine, I gazed at Father's grave. I could feel my knees trembling again as I walked toward the carriage, and my foot caught on the first step. Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around my waist and a hand gripped under my elbow. I turned my head and my eyes met the hazel of Blaine's. A gentle smile graced his lips, which I hastily forced myself to look away from, muttering a "thank you," before climbing in. I gazed out the window at him as he waved to us, the signature royal salute, probably as natural to him as breathing. I still felt tremulous as I thought of Father, but there was a new sensation, quiet and deep in the pit of my belly, that I had never experienced before. I clasped my hands together to stop them from shaking and scooted on the seat, as far away from Mother as I could manage.

"It was an outstanding occasion," Mother was saying, as though Father's funeral were some kind of celebration, "All the important people attended."

"It was terrible." How could Father's funeral ever be outstanding?

"It seems you've befriended the prince."

"He liked Father."

Mother pursed her lips and gazed out the window as our carriage rocked into motion. "Your father was a good man. I'm sorry he's dead."

**Next chapter: Kurt meets some new people at Burt's memorial dinner. Will they be friends or enemies?**


	3. Chapter 3: Banquet

**AN: Thanks for the reviews y'all; I appreciate it **

**So I'm trying to find my feet here; it's a little weird writing a story that follows the plot and characters of another. If you've read Ella Enchanted, you'll notice the first two chapters borrowed from the original story quite a bit, but I think as I get more comfortable and we get further into the plot and let a bit more of Glee seep into this universe, things will diverge a bit more from the novel.**

**In this chapter we've got more bizarre, cracky family relationships, so I hope you enjoy that.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or Ella Enchanted.**

I hadn't realized how long I had been crying by that willow tree. As soon as we arrived at our manor, I had to hurry to change into a new outfit so I could join our guests downstairs for a banquet in Father's honor. I literally had to hurry because Mother barked the instruction at me as I raced up the stairs to my bedroom.

I spent as much time as the spell would let me just sitting in my room, enjoying the familiarity of the decorations I had picked out, the silence, and the peace. Soon enough, I was in too much pain to further delay the inevitable, but as soon as I stood and walked to my wardrobe, my symptoms were gone. I put on a new outfit and went downstairs to greet our guests.

When Mother saw me, she fixed me with a particularly malevolent glare. "Porcelain, what is that bile-inducing monstrosity that you're wearing?"

I simply smoothed my bangs back in reply. Rather than donning more traditional black mourning garb, I had chosen Father's favorite ensemble of mine. I could not deny that the soft brown trousers, burnt orange silk shirt with billowing sleeves and rust-colored vest held closed by glimmering brass buttons was a bit ostentatious, but Father had always grinned in approval when he saw me wearing it. Orange was Father's favorite color, and he had hated black.

"People are going to think you have no respect for your father," Mother scolded, "Now –"

I smirked when her order was cut off by a strange, bellowing wail, but my triumph faded quickly as a pair of pink-clad arms encircled my waist from behind and crushed me against an unfamiliar body.

"You poor thing; does it hurt much? And Lady Susan, it's devastating to see you under such awful circumstances," a whiny voice moaned near my right ear. I pulled away and turned to face a balding, bespectacled man dressed in all pink, save for a mint green scarf. I suppressed a cringe at the sight and shifted my eyes to the left. Standing just behind him were two rather large boys. The taller of the two was quite handsome, with dopey dark brown eyes and dark hair that stood up every which way. The shorter was a bit stouter as well, clearly powerfully built, and judging by the beady look in his eyes, he was the cleverer of the two. He had thin brown hair and a wide face.

"This is Sir Sandy," Mother said as she reached out to touch the older man's bright pink-encased forearm. Apparently she saw no need to scold him for his lack of black attire.

I greeted him awkwardly, managing something between a curtsy and a bow.

Mother enquired after the young men who accompanied Sir Sandy, and he proceeded to introduce his two sons. The taller of the two was named Finnegan, and the shorter, David.

"Boys, comfort poor Kurt in his hour of need," Sir Sandy sing-songed as he offered Mother his arm and escorted her into the dining hall.

The three of us stared around in silence. Finnegan and I caught each other's eye and he offered me a small half-smile, extending his hand.

"Hello, I'm Finn."

I shook it delicately. "Kurt."

"This is my brother, Dave," Finn added needlessly.

"Why did you act like that earlier?" Dave asked abruptly, interrupting my soft "Hello."

I bristled. "I don't know what you're referring to."

Dave scowled, regarding me with a strange glint in his eyes. "Crying like a girl in front of everyone. Why did you do that?"

I fixed him with a pointed glare.

"Dave," Finn said softly, unsurely, "His father just died."

Dave shrugged his shoulders and cast his gaze around, and Finn followed his lead.

"This is a nice hall," Finn commented hesitantly, glancing at Dave as if in confirmation, and seeming to relax when his brother gave a slight nod.

"Our father says your mother earns a lot of money in her trading business," Dave began, "I think it's kind of strange, a woman leaving her family's manor to travel and trade goods, but it looks like it's working."

He glared at me suddenly for no reason, and I simply narrowed my eyes at him in return. "We're rich, too," he added.

Finn coughed awkwardly and cleared his throat. "Kurt, will you show us around the rest of the manor?"

I showed them the upstairs, and we looked in every room, Dave pausing once in a while to quip a thinly-veiled insult, while Finn occasionally paid a sincere compliment. We made our way to the dining hall and found ourselves next to one of the side tables, which was straining under the weight of the pastries and meat pies piled on top of it.

"Do you want something –" Dave didn't wait for me to finish my question before proceeding to shovel a disgusting amount of food down his throat. Finn shrugged at me, but then joined his brother in the activity.

I wasn't hungry, despite having eaten nothing all day, and the sight of the two boys stuffing their faces was nauseating. I glanced down at the rug under the table, looking at the little yellow canaries woven into the material, and tried to imagine what notes they might like to sing. As I stared down, it was as though I could actually hear their cheerful songs. My brow furrowed in concentration, and – was that a flutter of a wing? Yes! I watched in fascination as the little birds actually began to move, flying about the carpet, spiraling and chasing one another. Their pretty songs filled my ears, and I began to whistle along quietly.

"What are you doing?" Dave grunted. My head snapped up. Dave was glaring once more, and Finn was looking at me in dull confusion. They had actually ceased inhaling food while waiting for my response. I glanced back down at the rug. There was no music now, and the canaries were stationary once more.

"Nothing," I muttered.

"You were whistling," Dave shot back, his tone laced with accusation.

"What's wrong with that?" I snapped in reply.

"I-I like whistling!" Finn offered hopefully, but then blanched when Dave sent him a dark look. "But, I mean, not at the dinner table."

I snorted at the sight of them. "I don't think I need lessons in table manners from you two."

Finn frowned and looked down at his doublet, which was stained with gravy, but Dave actually rose to his feet and leaned across the table.

"You're weird," he hissed angrily, "When your father was alive he must've forgot to teach you how to act like a normal man."

The slight against Father left me speechless, and Finn let out a surprised squeak. I was sure that what little color my face usually held had drained completely.

"Boys, boys!" Sir Sandy's moaning voice filled the air as he swept over, a silk pink cape rustling behind him. "We must be going." He dragged me into another hug and I was enveloped in the bewildering stench of rotten fruit.

After Sir Sandy and his sons had left, I snuck away from Mother and joined Carol in the kitchen, helping her with the dishes.

"Your feast was a success, as always," I commented to her as I pulled on an apron to protect my outfit.

She laughed, "Those people must have been starving."

"Nobody can resist your cooking," I sent her a little smile and a wink. It was true; I had never tasted food quite as delicious as Carol's. I had often tried to follow her recipes, and Father would sometimes join me, admittedly often more a hindrance than a help, but we never managed to produce anything quite as tasty as her dishes, no matter how closely we adhered to the instructions.

I suddenly remembered the rug.

"You know the rug in the dining hall? The one with yellow canaries? Something strange happened when I looked at it earlier this evening."

Carol laughed again, scouring a pan. "Oh, you needn't pay that old thing any attention."

"Why is that?"

"It's a faerie rug. Just an old practical joke."

I stopped drying the plate I was holding and faced her fully. "Really?" I asked, intrigued, "How do you know?"

"It belonged to Sir Burt."

"Did my faerie godmother give it to him?"

"Many years ago." Carol let out a heavy sigh.

"Do you know who she is?"

"If your father wanted you to know, he would have told you himself."

"He promised he would after I turned fifteen, but he didn't get the chance to. Please, Carol, tell me."

"I am."

I rolled my eyes in impatience. "No, you are _not_ telling me. Who is she?"

"Me. I'm your faerie godmother. Now, here, taste this pudding I've made for Shannon. How is it?"

**Oooo of course Carol was hiding something. She's crafty, that one. I know it seems weird with Finn basically under Karofsky's control, but trust me, this is me being generous to Finn, because his counterpart in the novel is much more pathetic (and mean!).**

**Next Chapter: Kurt learns more about faeries from Carol, and Sue and Kurt face off. I promise Blaine will appear again soon, though!**


	4. Chapter 4: Deportment

**AN: Here's the next chapter! It's a long one; I combined two chapters from the book. I'll do this again, depending on the flow of the story. Once again, thank you for the reviews **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or Ella Enchanted.**

My mouth dropped open instantly, from both surprise and the order. I savored the sweet taste of Carol's chocolate pudding as I tried to collect my thoughts. I could sense hints of cinnamon and cayenne pepper, adding a bit of zip, and another spice I couldn't place. The best pudding in the world, which only Carol could make. Apparently, with magic.

Carol was a faerie! Carol was _my_ faerie godmother!

But if this was true, why was Father dead?

"Carol, you can't be a faerie."

"Why not?"

"If you were a faerie, you could have prevented Father from dying."

Carol's face fell. I had been so consumed in my own grief that I hadn't really noticed how much she was hurting. "Oh, honey, I tried. If he'd eaten the unicorn hair in my curing soup, he'd still be with us today."

"But you knew. Why did you let him throw it out?" I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes again.

"I didn't know until it was too late; he was too sick. When I found out, he was already dying. And we can't stop that."

Carol pulled me against her frame as my body shuddered with suppressed sobs. I was so tired of crying today. I pressed my face into the pleats of her dress, trying to catch my breath. I felt some tears trickle through my hair onto my scalp and looked up. Carol was crying, too.

I pushed out of her arms and looked at her with new eyes.

"Did you love Father?"

Carol stared down at her lap for the longest time, before meeting my gaze resolutely. "Sir Burt and I were very fond of each other."

"You were in love."

"Your father was a wonderful man, Kurt. He and your mother were not a love match. But he was always faithful to her and I never asked –"

"I know. I know," I assured her, taking her hand and squeezing it. "You've…always been like a mother to me, Carol. More than my actual mother."

She smiled and pulled me close once again. I settled into her embrace, enjoying the scent of apple pie and brown sugar that always seemed to follow her.

"Will you show me?"

"What?"

"Faerie magic. Can you disappear?"

Carol snorted at this. "I could, but it's incredibly rude to do so. Only that idiot Terri is foolish enough to disappear in front of humans."

"Does Mother know? And Shannon?"

Carol returned to the dishes. "No, only you know now, and I'd like you to keep it that way." She fixed me with a stern look.

"I promise I will. But why?"

She sighed, wiping her hands on a towel. "Well, sweetie, humans only like the idea of faeries. So we like to keep a low profile. When people recognize one in real life, they always want us to do magic for them; it always leads to trouble."

"So then why does Terri not care?"

"That silly fool loves the attention. And the gratitude. She's always expecting people to thank her when she gives them one of her terrible gifts."

I mulled this over. "So…if you don't want anybody to know, why did Father? Why do I?"

"The Hummel line are all Friends of the Faeries. You even have Faerie blood."

"I do?" Could I cast a counter spell to Terri's? "Can I do magic?" I asked eagerly.

"No, honey, you can't. It's only a drop of Faerie blood," Carol took my crestfallen face in her hands and smiled at me affectionately, "But there is one way that it shows."

"What is it?"

"It only manifests every few generations. Skipped over Sir Burt completely! It's your voice, sweetie," she added at the look of impatience on my face.

I put a hand to my throat. "My voice?" I couldn't decide if it was a blessing or another curse. Carol and Father had often exclaimed over my beautiful singing, but others often teased me for its high range. Dave had certainly made a comment or two during our tour of the manor.

"Could you use magic to change my voice? Or…or make it rain right now?"

"I could…"

"Will you? Please?"

Carol laughed. "Why?"

"I want to…I need to see it. Big magic."

She shook her head. "Only Terri does big magic. It's too risky."

"What's risky about making it rain?"

"Think about it for a moment. Use your imagination."

I slumped down in a seat, feeling discouraged. Still, I wasn't one to give up easily. "If you made it rain, the farmers' crops would get the water they need to flourish…"

She gave me a sarcastic smile. "Anything else?"

"Well, maybe they'd get too much water, and drown," I replied, resigned to her decision not to do big magic.

"That's right. Or I could lose control of my power and cause a flood. Then I'd have to fix that. That's the other trouble with big magic; it's unpredictable. Most faeries, like me, only do little magic. Like my cooking, my curing soup. The Tonic you hate to drink each night," she teased with a little smirk.

"So my curse? That's big magic, right? Tell me how to break it, Carol, please!" I deflated at the look of regret on her face.

"I'm sorry, love, but I don't know how. I know that it can be done, though."

"Do you think that if I could find Terri and tell her how awful it is, that maybe she'd remove the spell?"

"Maybe. The trouble with that harebrain, among other things, is that she's impulsive. She might take that spell away and give you something worse. Or she might be offended that you didn't like her gift. It's never a good idea to anger a faerie like her."

"What does she look like? Do you know where she is?"

"I don't make it a habit to stay in touch with Terri the Idiot. Watch that plate!"

The instruction came too late. In my haste to learn more about Terri, I had shuffled forward and elbowed a plate off the counter. It fell to the ground and shattered. I grabbed the broom, but there was no need. I watched in astonishment as the pieces of glass picked themselves up and flew into the rubbish bin.

"That's the kind of magic I do. It can't hurt anybody, and it can be quite useful sometimes. There's certainly no sharp bits left on the floor if I do it this way."

"Why didn't you repair it?"

"That magic would be too big. You never know what the consequences will be."

"Then faeries can't tell the future?"

"Only gnomes can do that, sweet."

Shannon came into the kitchen, smiling down at me from her great height. "Lady Susan would like to see you in her study, sonny."

"What does she want?"

"She didn't say," Shannon replied, twisting her hands together in front of her. This worried me a little. Shannon was not an easily intimidated woman. In fact, she was usually the one doing the intimidating. I picked up the dish towel and dried a bowl. Then another dish, then another.

"Best not to keep her waiting," Shannon muttered. I reached for a plate.

"You'd better go, love," Carol advised, "And she'll be furious if she sees you in that apron."

Carol seemed nervous as well! I took off my apron and left.

I stopped just outside of Mother's study. She was seated behind her oak desk, examining something in her lap.

"There you are, Porcelain," she said as she looked up. "Come closer."

I scowled at her and took a tiny step forward. I got a lot more twisted pleasure playing this game with Mother than with Carol, when it was more fun for the both of us. Mother glared at me.

"I told you to come closer."

"I did."

"Well, not close enough. I'm not going to start pulling your teeth out; so come here."

She leaned back in her chair a little and surveyed me as I obeyed the order and walked up to her. She nodded at the chair placed on the other side of her desk. "Sit."

I lowered myself into the chair, my chin in the air.

"I bet you've never seen something as fantastic as this," she began, passing me the object from her lap, "Be careful; it's heavier than it looks."

I decided I would drop it, just because she liked it so much. Before I could, though, I looked down at it and gasped. I was holding a miniature piano in my hands, crafted from shining black pearl and complete with tiny porcelain keys and silk-woven piano strings. It glistened in the low light of the study, and as I squinted my eyes in an effort to look closer, it was almost as though the tiny keys were moving up and down of their own accord, almost as though I could hear faint music playing. I turned it around in my hands in awe.

"Where did you get this?"

Mother looked particularly smug. "From some elves. It's elfin-made. Very valuable. It was made by one of Holly's students. I'd like to get an original Holly work, but I haven't pulled that off yet. It will be my greatest triumph," she mused, suddenly looking off into the distance, as though she were envisioning this conquest.

"Where will you put it?"

She surveyed me over the tips of her steepled fingers. "Where do you want me to put it, Porcelain?"

"In a window sill," I said breathlessly, still captivated by the beautiful little instrument.

"Don't you want it in your room?"

"I don't care what room…just a window." I wanted everyone passing by to be able to marvel at its splendor.

"I'll tell the buyer to put it in a window sill."

"You're selling it?"

"That's what I do; that's how I make my money." She took the piano back and narrowed her eyes at it. "Maybe I can pass this off as an original Holly. I'd get a much better price."

"You…you can't lie about something like that! It's very beautiful; I'm sure you'll be able to get a fair price for it."

Mother sent me an evil smirk. "Well, Porcelain, I'm not really concerned with what's fair."

"You shouldn't even be selling it," I muttered darkly, "If I had something so wonderful I would never pawn it off for something as base as money."

She shut the piano away. "Well, you don't have it, so get used to it. And while a part of me can swell with pride at your brave display of insolence, that really isn't how a young man of good standing should behave. What am I going to do with you, Porcelain?" She didn't speak in exasperation, but rather in a calculating manner, as though this was a real dilemma that needed to be solved.

"Why must you do anything with me?" It wasn't enough that I was at every person's whim at all times, now I was to be regarded as a burdensome piece of property as well.

"You can't spend all your time helping the cook. You need to learn how to conduct yourself more appropriately amongst your peers and other members of court." She paused. "What did you think of Sir Sandy's sons?"

"They weren't particularly comforting," I sniffed delicately.

Mother tilted her head back and let out a loud cackle. I stared at her in bewilderment. She sounded like some evil witch whose nefarious schemes were going exactly as she had planned. I resented being laughed at; it made me want to say something nice about Finn and Dave. "They had good intentions, I suppose," I added. A complete lie, in Dave's case at least.

She answered me once she had gained control over her laughter. "No, they didn't have good intentions. That older dumpy one is a vicious troll, and I'm convinced he's hiding something. The tall potato-headed one is as weak and as stupid as a sack of hay."

This perhaps wasn't the most generous assessment of Finn, but I said nothing to refute it.

"I can't say I blame them for turning out like they did, though, considering that twittering, pompous idiot they have for a father," her tone suddenly became less harsh and more considered, "Sir Sandy _is_ rich and titled, though."

I wasn't sure what that had to do with anything. The longer I spoke with this woman, who was practically a stranger to me, the more I became convinced that she was touched in the head.

"Her sons are set to attend Dalton's Academy of Deportment for Young Gentlemen and Ladies. Perhaps I should send you with them. You can learn how to hold your tongue, for a start."

Deportment school! I couldn't think of anything I'd enjoy less, particularly if I had to attend with Dave. Just the thought of being subjected to the babbling of slow-witted teachers and the judgmental stares and jeers of my peers made me curl my lip in disgust. I could learn a lot more from Carol and from my own studies. And the thought of all the _commands_ I'd have to obey, day in and day out, was enough to make me feel nauseous.

"Can't I just stay here?"

Mother considered me carefully, looking quite arrogant now that she had something very real to hold over my head.

"I suppose I could hire you a private tutor. I wonder if I could find someone close by who wouldn't be a complete waste of money…"

"I-I'd study very hard if I had a tutor, Mother." I hated how desperate I sounded.

"But not at deportment school?" she asked, with cruel amusement. She pulled some papers from a drawer in her desk and bent her head over them. "You can go now, Porcelain; I've got work to do."

The following night, Mother ordered that I dine with her formally. As I sat down, Mother raised her crystal goblet in my direction. "See how it sparkles in the light, Porcelain."

"It's nice," I replied begrudgingly.

"Just nice?"

"Pretty." I refused to fall in love with it as I had the piano. I knew she would just end up selling it. I fixed Mother with my most derisive glare. Apparently, this was a mistake. She had been reluctantly impressed by my defiance the night before, but now she scowled back at me.

"Your father raised you to be a brat, Porcelain, and it just won't do. How will I ever introduce you to civilized company?"

I thought Mother herself was quite uncivilized. And far too often, those who called themselves civilized were anything but. "What if I don't like civilized company?"

"Well, it's more important that they like you. So I've made my decision, and its set in stone, Porcelain, so don't try to change my mind. You'll attend Dalton's Academy with Sir Sandy's sons."

I gaped at her in horror. I couldn't go!

"What about my private tutor? Wouldn't that be less costly?" I tried desperately.

"Well, it's very kind for you to be concerned about how much money I'm spending, but no. A private tutor would be much more expensive. You'll leave in two days. Sir Sandy said you may join his sons for the journey."

"I won't go."

"You'll attend that school if I have to drag you there myself, Porcelain, and trust me when I say that would not be a pleasant trip for you."

I had opened my mouth to argue further but snapped it shut at the hard glint in her eyes. I detested being at all frightened of her, but I had heard of her violent tantrums.

"I'll attend deportment school," I conceded, "but I will hate every second of it."

Mother's anger was gone instantly, replaced instead with a look of superiority. "I have to tell you," she said calmly, "your resentment…is delicious."

The taste of obedience that wasn't spell-bound was bitter in my mouth. I stood up from the table and stalked out of the room with as much dignity as I could muster. I ran upstairs and collapsed on my bed, staring angrily at the ceiling and biting on my lip to keep the sting of tears at bay.

There was a soft knock at my door. "Sweetie…?" It was Carol with my Tonic. I didn't wish for more bitterness at this point.

"I'm fine, Carol, really. I don't need any Tonic right now."

"Oh love," she walked into the room, setting down a box she was carrying, and pulled me to her.

"I don't want to go."

"I know." I don't know how long she held me; I could feel my eyelids drooping when she shifted me in her hold. "Time for your Tonic."

"Not tonight."

"You need to keep your health up, especially now. You'll need your strength and your wits about you.

Three spoonfuls. I cringed at the taste, but I did feel a little better. I settled myself under the covers as Carol smoothed my bangs back.

"Why did Father every marry her?"

"Lady Susan was a different person until she and Sir Burt were wed. She was a lot softer and sweeter. Lady Susan was poor as well, and his family didn't approve, which only made him want to be with her more. That's the kind of man he was," she smiled fondly, "good-hearted and generous." Her hand stilled on my hair. "Kurt, honey, do try to keep her from learning of the spell."

I nodded. "Father ordered me to never tell anyone of the curse, but I would never tell her anyway. She'd take advantage of it; she'd use me."

"That's right," Carol's voice was soft, soothing, as I drifted closer to sleep. "Sit up, sweet. Don't you want your gifts?"

I cracked open an eye. "Gifts?" I shuffled up as Carol handed me the box she had brought in earlier.

"This is for you," she said, "for your whole life. Wherever you go; whatever you do."

It was a stunning book of faerie tales. The drawings seemed to take on a life of their own as I turned the pages with wide eyes.

"When you're lonely, you can look at it and think of me. Perhaps it will bring you comfort." I could hear a tremble in Carol's voice and looked up.

"Of course it will," I reassured her softly, before attempting to cheer her up with a small smile. "I will save it until the trip, so that the stories are new and fresh."

She chuckled at this. "I don't think you'll get through it too fast." She pulled a tiny, cloth-wrapped package from her apron and handed it to me. "And this is from Sir Burt."

I unfolded the cloth. It was Father's ring that he had always worn on his right hand. My fingers shook slightly as I picked it up. The silver band shone brightly, the front encrusted with tiny blue-grey gems.

"I'll wear it always," I vowed, my voice filled with a thousand emotions."

"You'd do well to keep the plain side of the band on the outside for your trip. It's goblin-made; very valuable."

I threw myself at Carol suddenly, clinging to her, clinging to the only life I'd ever known, one that was now being ripped away from me. She pulled out of my grasp, but I could see the quiver in her lip.

"You have to let go, Kurt."

She pressed a soft kiss on my cheek before leaving me to drift off into sleep.

**So it's off to Dalton for Kurt. Except Blaine won't be there, and Karofsky will. What a bad deal! Also, Carol and Burt were in love but could never be together! God, this story is more depressing than I had planned. Not to worry, happiness is ahead!**

**Next chapter: Kurt encounters Blaine (YAY!), Dave (BOO) and Finn (meh) again.**


	5. Chapter 5: Royal Menagerie

**AN: The longest chapter yet! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Ella Enchanted.**

Two misery-filled days later, I awoke gripping Father's ring fiercely and to the clock in King Andrew's palace announcing six o'clock. I was grateful to it; I wanted to spend as much of the day as I could saying goodbye to the people and places I loved. I dressed and went down to the kitchen, pleased to find that Carol had baked fresh rolls. I took two of them. I no longer had to wonder how they were always the perfect temperature when I found them; it must be Carol's "little magic."

I wandered down to the gardens and walked straight into Mother. She sneered at me.

"I don't have time for you right now. Now scram and run into someone else. And tell Carol I'll be back at noon for lunch," she called after me as I ran to obey her order. As instructed, I soon ran headlong into Shannon, who was carrying an armful of firewood.

"You need to be more careful, sonny," she scolded me as she extended a broad hand and yanked me to my feet easily. She shooed me away as I tried to help her pick up the scattered logs.

After I had apologized to Shannon and then repeated Mother's message to Carol, I decided to head to the royal menagerie near the king's palace. I loved to visit the exotic animals and speaking birds.

I visited the baby dragon first. She eyed me evilly, her ruby eyes glowing with malice. She was both terrible and beautiful. I fished one of the rolls from my pocket and speared it on a little stick in order to toast it from the baby dragon's fire, watching carefully so I wouldn't burn it.

I spotted a centaur staring at me in a pen on the other side of a little creek that ran through the menagerie. I walked over the stone bridge and approached the centaur. Did they like rolls? I hesitantly raised my arm to offer him the bread, hoping I wouldn't scare him away.

"Here," a smooth, pleasant voice said. "They like fruit best."

I turned; it was Prince Blaine, holding out an apple for me to take.

"Thank you," I said softly, taking the apple and moving closer to the pen. The centaur sniffed the air and his eyes focused the apple. A smile formed on his face and he loped over to me. I threw the apple up in the air and he caught it easily. He bit into the fruit and started to chew, a content look on his sweet but simple visage.

"I always expect them to say something. Like, 'Thank you for the treat,' or 'Please stop gawking at me,'" I said.

"They're not smart enough to communicate like that. See how vacant his eyes are?" Blaine motioned towards the centaur, attempting to teach me, apparently. I supposed it was a royal duty to educate one's subjects.

"If they had a language," I said, a little smirk on my face, "they still wouldn't be able to think of something to say."

Blaine stared at me in surprise. Then he laughed, deep and rich. "That's funny! You're funny," he exclaimed, "Just as Sir Burt was." He suddenly looked abashed. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to remind you of him."

"Don't be. He's never far from my thoughts, really." I thought of Father almost all of the time.

We began to walk together along the edge of the little creek.

"Would you like an apple, as well?" He held one out for me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Do I have the same blank look in my eyes as the centaur?" I teased him, hoping to make him laugh again.

He chuckled. "No, far from it," he replied. He looked away for a moment, and then spoke again, "You know, I quite like you, Kurt." He looked at me again while he fished another apple out of a pocket in his cape for himself.

I could feel my face heating up and cursed my fair skin. I hoped he would blame my red cheeks on the heat. I had to admit, I liked him, too. He wasn't at all like I expected a royal to be. He wasn't snobbish or arrogant, but rather warm and friendly. I offered him a small smile in reply.

We had arrived at the bird cages, my favorite part of the menagerie. The speaking birds were fluent in all the languages of the land, both human and otherwise. I enjoyed imitating them, and Father had told me I had a good ear for different languages and accents.

The birds' keeper, Samuel, was a friend of mine. He turned and greeted the prince with a bow, and then resumed feeding a large, bright yellow bird.

"This one just arrived," he told us, "he speaks mainly Gnomic and I can't get him to shut up for the life of me."

The bird squawked out a phrase in Gnomic, and I repeated it. Blaine turned to me in surprise again.

"You speak Gnomic?"

"I can imitate the noises. I only know the meanings of a couple words. I have no idea what he said."

"Kurt does it just right, doesn't he, Your Highness?" Samuel commented, giving me a grin and a nod of approval as the parrot repeated his phrase. Blaine tried to imitate him, making a rather amusing garbled noise instead. I suppressed a snicker and smiled at him indulgently. He returned this with a wide grin.

"Do you know what he's saying?" I asked Samuel. Samuel was particularly adept at Elfin, but he also knew some Gnomic and Ogrese from spending so much time tending to the birds.

Sam shook his head, his shaggy blond hair flying. "Do you know, Sir?" he asked Blaine.

"No. It sounds like gargling to me. I did tend to neglect my language studies," he confessed to me in a whisper. It felt nice, as though we shared a private joke.

"Would you like to learn some Elfin?" Samuel asked, eager to share his knowledge. We spent a few minutes learning some phrases, before Samuel had to excuse himself and greet new visitors.

Blaine waited as I bid farewell to each of the birds in Ogrese ("Eat well!"), Gnomic ("Good digging!"), Elfin ("Stay in the shade."), and Abdegi, the language of the giants ("I'm counting the moments 'til I see you again!"). We waved good-bye to Samuel as we walked towards the flower garden that separated the speaking birds from the ogres. I tried to teach Blaine some phrases in different languages. He remembered them well enough, but his accent was consistently atrocious. I couldn't resist the chance to tease him about it, and he played along good-naturedly.

"You know, if the ogres heard you speaking their language like that, they'd consider you inedible."

"The elves would force me to spend all day directly in the sun."

"I'm sorry, but I would have to abandon you there and enjoy myself in the cool shade."

Our chuckles died down as we reached the ogre cages. Even though they were locked up, soldiers stood within shooting distance to guard the ogres.

Ogres were dangerous for many reasons. Not only were they large and strong, they also had slippery, slick voices with some peculiar quality that could compel human listeners to do whatever they said, particularly if they knew your secrets, your fears and desires, and could use them to manipulate you. That was the other danger about ogres; many of them could see inside your mind, particularly if you had a very important secret, and just know things about you. It was quite a deadly combination. Their oily words could make you forget their ugly faces, their gnarled teeth and sharp nails. With one sentence, an ogre could convince you that you worshipped him, that you would do anything to make him happy. Including boiling yourself alive or letting him eat your raw.

Blaine and I kept our distance, but then I heard a soft, childish voice say something in Gnomic.

"Did you hear that?" I asked Blaine.

He frowned, looking around for the source. "It didn't sound like an ogre."

The voice repeated the phrase, and then I saw a little gnome poke her head out from behind a bush, right beside one of the ogre cages. "Look," I whispered to Blaine, nodding toward the gnome. The ogre in the cage seemed to notice the child just as Blaine saw her. I started forward, realizing the ogre could reach the gnome, but Blaine beat me to her, hurrying forward and snatching the toddler up and out of harm's way. The ogre scowled at us as the frightened little gnome squirmed and twisted in Blaine's arms. "Give her here," I beckoned, hoping I could calm the child. I tried to shush her as the ogre hissed at Blaine angrily.

Suddenly, the ogre focused on me and his anger was gone. He began to laugh at me, dawning comprehension in his eyes. When he spoke, it was obvious he knew there was no need to make his voice persuasive.

"Come here, boy," he said in Kyrrian, "Come here and bring the child."

This was the moment. Carol had said I could break the spell, and now, my life and the life of an innocent child depended on it. My knees began to buckle as I forced myself to stay in place. My stomach flip-flopped with nausea and I could feel perspiration beading on my forehead at the effort. _Break the spell, break the spell,_ I chanted over and over in my head, gritting my teeth as the pain set in, cramping the muscles of my legs and shooting sharply through my joints. I tightened the grip I had on the gnome in my arms in an effort to stay still and she yelped in pain and tried to wiggle away. How I wished I could let her go, but the order stopped me from releasing her.

The ogre cackled still. "Bring her here. Come, bring me the child!"

It was too much. I let out a soft whimper and took a step forward. Then another. I winced in pain and managed to stop for a moment, but my knees started to buckle once more, forcing me forward again. All I could see was the ogre's beady black eyes, dancing with sadistic glee and all the knowledge of my secrets as I drew closer and closer.

"Kurt, what are you doing?" Blaine cried out in alarm.

"I-I must," I managed to choke out. The toddler gnome was crying in my arms.

"Stop! I order you to stop!" Blaine's voice had risen with panic.

I almost collapsed in relief at the command. I stood, trembling like a leaf as soldiers circled the ogre's cage, pointing their arrows at him. Blaine rushed to my side and touched my shoulder, bringing me out of my stupor.

"Why did you listen to him?"

I searched my mind for a plausible explanation. "It was…his-his eyes. Something in them, in the way he looked at me. I-I had to do what he said."

Blaine looked horrified. "Don't tell me they've come up with a new way to compel us? I need to tell my father!"

I looked away guiltily. I felt terrible for deceiving him, but it wasn't as though I could tell him about the curse, or even would if I could. I glanced down at the gnome child, who was still screaming and crying from the ordeal, and wondered if the parrot's phrase could calm her. I repeated it to her gently, and her cries gradually turned into sniffles. She rewarded me with a wide smile that creased her chubby face and returned the phrase. I set her down on the ground, but she held onto my hand and reached for Blaine's beseechingly. Blaine smiled down at the gnome and took her hand.

"Where do you think she came from?" I asked Blaine, "Her family must be worried."

"There's a group of Gnomic families that have settled on the other side of that hill," Blaine informed me, pointing to the west.

"I suppose royal knowledge of the land can be useful at times," I quipped as we started off in that direction, the little gnome swinging our arms in harmony. Blaine beamed at me. The way the sunlight hit his face and created shadows of his long eyelashes had me blushing again and scolding myself internally. _Don't be foolish. Of all the boys to feel something for, the prince? No boy will return your feelings, so of course you have to choose the most unattainable of them all. _I contented myself with the prospect of his friendship alone. I really did enjoy his company.

As we started to descend the hill, we spotted an old female gnome sitting beside a little pond. Her head was bowed and tears trickled down her fat, wrinkled cheeks, dripping into her lap. In the near distance, several other gnomes appeared to be conducting a search, peering into bushes and knocking on logs. Our toddler gnome suddenly rushed forward, pulling Blaine and I along with her and called out. The old female looked up, a look of joy spreading across her face, and responded to her in their tongue. The child let go of our hands and they embraced. The older gnome looked up and seemed to recognize Blaine.

"Your Majesty," she spoke in Kyrrian, "thank you for returning my granddaughter to me."

Blaine ducked his head shyly but offered her a wide smile. "We are glad to, Madam. She had wandered over to the ogre cages."

"Bl – Prince Blaine – rescued her," I added. And he had saved my life, as well.

The old gnome showed her gratitude with a deep bow of her head. She was very wide and short, as all gnomes were, but she was one of the most dignified people I had ever seen. "I am Shelby," she said, offering her Kyrrian name, and nodded at the child in her arms, "and this is little Beth."

"I'm Kurt," I offered with my cursty-bow hybrid. Other gnomes noticed that Beth had arrived home safely, and soon we were surrounded by a small circle of friendly faces.

"How did you manage to get her to come with you?" Shelby wondered, "Beth doesn't trust strangers, especially humans."

"Kurt spoke to her in Gnomic," Blaine replied. I thought I could detect a note of pride in his voice.

"What did you say?" a gnome in the crowd asked.

I paused for a moment. It was one thing to imitate birds and play around with Samuel and laugh at Blaine's ridiculous accent, but I did not really want to embarrass myself in front of this stately, ancient gnome. I repeated the phrase anyway, noting with relief that many of the gnomes smiled widely and nodded in approval.

"Ah, no wonder she trusted you."

Beth squealed the phrase again and twisted excitedly in Shelby's arms. Another gnome asked where I learned to speak Gnomic, so Blaine and I explained about the speaking birds at the menagerie.

"What did I say to Beth?" I asked Shelby.

"It is a greeting we use. In your language, it means, 'Dig for your health and dig for your wealth.'" She took my hand suddenly and closed her heavy eyelids. "Beth's life is not the only one you will save," she said, "I can see it."

Carol had told me that gnomes could see into the future! Could Shelby see if I would break my curse? "What else do you see?" I asked eagerly.

"There are no details…" I bit my tongue to keep from interrupting her. "I see three figures close to you, a journey, peril." She opened her eyes and fixed me a grave look with her sharp, dark eyes. "You cannot trust them."

On our way back towards the menagerie, Blaine spoke: "I will need to double the security at the ogre cages starting tonight." He paused. "And if you should like, I will capture a centaur for you to have as your own."

The Ryerson family was annoyingly punctual. I sat gloomily, watching Sir Sandy's men load my things onto the Ryerson's carriage. Mother stood at my side, while Carol watched from the back entrance to the kitchen.

Dave was eyeing my luggage beadily. "You sure do have a lot of stuff," he criticized.

"He only has one more thing than you," Finn observed simply, earning him a glare from Dave.

"I appreciate you taking Kurt with you, Sir Sandy," Mother said, "I know he can be a brat; I hope he doesn't trouble you much."

Sir Sandy waved this off with much fluttering of his hands. "Oh, he won't be bothering me, Lady S. I'm not making the journey with the boys. I'm afraid it's much too trying of an adventure for me. I have a delicate disposition."

I mostly covered up my scoff. Sir Sandy's disposition had seemed fine when he had guzzled wine and food at the dinner for Father. I glanced in amusement at Mother, who was struggling to cover up a death glare at the abbreviation of her name.

"Besides," Sir Sandy continued to simper, "I'm sure they'll have much more fun without their doddering old papa."

There was a long silence in which no one said anything to the contrary. Finn shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Then Mother seemed to remember her manners. I wasn't sure why she bothered to be so polite to this odious man, since she would normally not tolerate his inane character.

"Not old or doddering, Sir Sandy, never." She turned to me and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Well, Porcelain, have a good time. I'll miss you," she added, raising her voice.

The liar.

As Finn and Dave climbed in the carriage, I ran to Carol, who was still standing by the kitchen. I couldn't leave her without one more hug goodbye.

"If now were a time for big magic," I said wryly, "this would be it." I winked at her, slipping on an unaffected mask, "I think you should make them all disappear."

"Oh, Kurt, honey." She held my face in her hands. I knew she could see right through my veneer. "Everything will be fine."

"Porcelain!" Mother barked, "Hurry up!" I rolled my eyes and hastened to obey. There was no point in delaying it any further. I climbed into the carriage and sat on the empty bench, resolutely staring out the window and stroking Father's ring for comfort.

"I can't believe you just clung to the cook like that. I'd never do that," Dave apparently felt the need to mention.

"No," I agreed, curling my lip at him, "I doubt any cook would ever let you do so."

An ugly look crossed his face as he searched for something else to say. "You know, with so much luggage, our classmates aren't going to be able to tell if you're a boy or a girl."

"Dave," Finn whined quietly, "he only has one more piece than you. Why do you keep pestering him about it?"

"Because I've figured it out," Dave snapped angrily, glaring at Finn and then me, "you're one of _those_, aren't you?"

I could feel my cheeks reddening. "And so what if I am?"

Poor Finn looked more confused than ever. "One of what?"

"He likes boys," Dave replied, his voice filled with contempt.

Finn shrugged. "So? I like boys, too. Kurt is my friend. I like him."

I was a little touched by this, but it didn't stop Dave from going on. "Not like that, idiot. He likes boys like you like girls. So you'd better shut up about liking boys, unless you want people to think you're a freak, too."

Finn's brow wrinkled in confusion and dismay. Clearly, this topic was beyond his grasp at the moment. Perhaps it was just too many new ideas all at once. "I'm…I'm not a freak. I don't like boys," he said, shooting me a guilty look. Well, that certainly endeared him to me less. I slipped Father's ring off and gripped it tightly in my hand, hoping it could give me the strength I needed.

"What are you holding in your hand?" Finn asked hopefully. It seemed he wished to move the conversation onto lighter things. I kept my mouth a thin line and remained stonily silent. Finn's face fell, but Dave's eyes narrowed in calculation.

"Let us see it." I sighed. An order. I opened my hand so they could see. _At least there are no thieves around to take it from me,_ I comforted myself. The two boys leaned forward to get a better look.

"Wow, Kurt, it's – it's very nice," Finn sounded captivated as he reached forward.

"Don't touch it," I told him quietly.

"I bet it's worth a lot of money. I want to try it on," Dave announced suddenly.

"Well, you can't," I snipped at him.

"Listen. Let me try it on."

"Do I have to?" I cursed myself. What a stupid slip!

Dave's eyes gleamed with something new, something beyond anger and disgust. "Yes," he said slowly, "yes, you have to."

I made a show of changing my mind about the matter and handed it over. I had to look away as he slipped it on his finger. The sight was almost physically painful.

"Let me try it, too, Kurt," Finn begged. But it was still a command.

"Not right now, Finn," Dave said imperiously, examining the ring in the dim light.

I reached for Dave's fingers. The curse was starting to make me feel ill, and the jostling of the carriage didn't help. "Let him have a try."

"Hah!" Finn exclaimed, grinning at me, "See, Kurt says I can, Dave. Hand it over."

"No, Finn, you always get everything. Girls always like you better, and you always make friends first. So I get this first."

I couldn't stand it. I pinned Dave's broad hand down with both my arms and yanked the ring off him before he could react.

"Don't let him have it, Fancy," Dave said, "Give it back to me."

I did so.

Apparently Finn's courage grew when he was denied something he desired. "You're being really mean, Dave. Kurt, you don't have to listen to him. Give it here."

I grabbed the ring back from Dave just as he was about to slip it on and shoved it into Finn's waiting hands.

Dave stopped arguing and stared at me. I could practically see the cogs turning in his head.

"You always so obedient, Ladyface? Give me that ring."

"Dave, I just got it," Finn whined, but he looked cowed by a glare his brother sent him and handed it over. Dave slipped it onto his hand again.

My mind searched desperately for something to distract them. "That was Father's ring," I tried, "and his father's before that. It has been in my family for –"

"You know, Fancy, I think you should give me the ring. As a sign of our friendship."

"We're _not_ friends," I snapped.

"Of course we are," Dave smiled nastily, "Finn likes you too, don't you Finn?"

Finn nodded stupidly. "Didn't I…say that already?"

Dave continued as if Finn hadn't spoken. "I think you'll give it to me if I say you have to," he said slowly, a calculating look in his eyes. "So give me the ring, Ladyboy. To seal our friendship. You must."

I bit my lips together, seeing red. No, I wouldn't. I wouldn't. No. "It's yours," the words spewed out of my mouth on a gasp of air.

"Well, thank you," Dave sneered. "Gee, Finn, what a generous friend we have." I collapsed in my seat and fixed my gaze out the window blindly.

"Fancy." Dave's voice had me gritting my teeth. I ignored him. "Pay attention." I sighed and turned towards him.

"What?" I bit out.

He glared at me. "Our servants didn't do a very good job of cleaning out the carriage before we left." He nodded towards a clump of mud underfoot that he had probably brought in with his shoe. "Pick that up."

_Gladly,_ I thought. I scooped up the mud and smeared it down the front of his shirt. My satisfaction did not last long, however. At first, it looked as though he was about to hit me, but he stopped, and a smirk spread across his face.

**Dun dun DUN. Poor Kurt cannot catch a break. So it's off to Dalton with Karofsky ordering him about. This can't be good.**

**Next chapter: The boys arrive at Dalton, Kurt meets a friend, and he tries to adjust to life at deportment school.**


	6. Chapter 6: Dalton's Academy

**AN: Sorry for the long wait guys! I am unfortunately, tragically, taking courses during the summer, and I had two big assignments due this week, so fic writing had to be put on hold. The next chapter should be along with much less delay.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Ella Enchanted.**

I could tell Dave was angry with me. I could also tell that he was the kind of boy who would reach out and strike someone at the slightest provocation. He didn't do that with me. He knew he didn't have to.

As we were bunking down for the night, Finn approached me.

"Kurt, we're friends, right?"

"Hmm."

"You gave Dave that ring because you're friends. What will you give me?"

I stared at him in amazement. Finn seemed to be a decent fellow most of the time, if a little slow. At other times, I could only view him as a coward, selfish and self-serving.

"Why don't you give me something?"

He smiled at me. "I will. And you give me something."

I could see he wasn't about to let this go, and he had phrased it as an order. I supposed the loss of the ring had hurt his pride. "What would you like?" I asked, sighing.

His face took on a look that reminded me of the sweet but simple centaur Blaine and I had fed at the menagerie. He cast his eyes about my belongings and my person, searching for something he could claim for himself. He pointed at the shining silver brooch shaped like a music note that I had fastened to my vest.

"How about that?"

"Really?" I fixed him a disbelieving look. It was obvious Finn and I did not have similar taste in fashion. I would've gone as far as to say he had none at all.

"Yes. I want that…thingy. Did you know, Lady Rachel of Berry is going to be attending Dalton's too, and I know she likes singing, and I…" he trailed off suddenly, looking away. I rolled my eyes at his blush. It made perfect sense; only someone as self-absorbed as Rachel would fall for Finn, and only someone as dull as Finn could stand Rachel.

I gave him the brooch and he offered me a little wooden horse he had carved in return. I accepted the token without thinking; if I had been a gnome and able to see into the future, I would have waited and asked for something more useful.

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During our journey to Dalton's Academy, Dave proved himself to be much smarter than his general behavior would suggest. He didn't know that I had been cursed by a fairy, but it was clear he had figured out that if he told me to do something, I would have to obey him. He wasted no time demonstrating to me his aptitude for both cleverness and cruelty.

Early next morning, when we stopped for breakfast, one of the attending servants brought each of us a bowl of hot porridge. Finn grinned widely and began shoveling the porridge in his mouth. I rolled my eyes and started to dip my spoon in with considerably more dignity when Dave piped up,

"Don't eat that, Ladyface."

I clenched the spoon in my hand with fury, imagining it was Dave's thick neck instead. The servant who had brought our food heard him.

"Is there something wrong with the porridge, sir?" he asked me.

"My brother isn't feeling well," Dave told him, "he's a weak little thing and I don't think the porridge will help. Just look at him; he's far too _delicate_." He sneered at the last word.

"I'm not his brother," I snapped at the started servant, and then tried to soften my expression in response to his affronted look.

"Kurt, if you aren't eating that, can I have it?" Finn asked eagerly. I sighed and pushed the bowl towards him with my knuckles.

The servant returned soon, setting a plate down in front of me. On it was a large roll sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. It smelled divine.

"I thought the young master might prefer this," the servant said hopefully and I shot him a bright smile. Dave scowled. I managed to get one bite in as the servant walked away and had just swallowed the soft, warm bread when Dave spoke again.

"Don't eat that either," he hissed.

Finn looked up. "But Dave," he said, through a mouth full of porridge, "Kurt needs to eat something."

"Shut up, Finn. I'm the eldest; I know best. Look how pale he is. I'll decide when he's ready to eat."

Finn lowered his eyes and shrugged at this. Between the two of them, they managed to finish my breakfast in two bites. The rest of the day carried on like this, with Dave gleefully ordering me about and denying me the tiniest scrap of food, while Finn averted his eyes and kept his mouth shut. If it weren't for Carol's Tonic, I would have had no nourishment at all. Dave had tasted it and made a disgusted face, so I assumed he would have taken it from me had it not been so bitter.

That night, after we had settled down to sleep, I made sure that both Finn and Dave were asleep before pulling out the book of faerie tales that Carol had given me before I left. I didn't want to lose it as well, and knew that Dave would be able to tell how valuable it was immediately. Finn would probably be captivated by all the pretty pictures.

I settled down by the firelight and opened the book. I expected a faerie tale, but instead I saw a picture of Carol! She was in the kitchen, kneading dough. I watched as she sprinkled flour onto the dough, tears streaming down her face. I could tell from her dress that this was from yesterday, right after I had left. I bit my lip to keep from crying, too. It had only been a day, and already, I missed her so much.

After a quick glance at Dave and Finn's sleeping forms, I flipped the page. My heart sped up a little at the illustration of Blaine. He was outside the palace walls, speaking with the guards who had been present at the ogre cages the day we visited. I gazed at his handsome face, friendly and open with the soldiers as he clapped one on the shoulder. I wondered why the book was showing me this. What significance did it have?

The next two pages had a map of Frell, indicating our manor, where I currently was, and where Mother was currently travelling. The second page included an illustration of Mother, sitting in a room in some inn, counting gold coins with a determined, pinched look on her face.

I turned the page again and found an actual faerie tale. It was a retelling of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, from the perspective of the bears. They didn't actually want to eat Goldilocks or harm her in anyway, but she ran away before they could rightfully demand that she pay for the food and lodging she had helped herself to in their home, as well as the property damage. This version had a bittersweet ending, in which the Bear family decided to purchase locks and be less trusting of others in general. I hummed sympathetically for the bears, but I agreed with the moral of the story; it was never a good idea to trust too easily or too often.

"That book must be really interesting, Ladyface," I heard Dave say groggily, "Let me see it."

I started. I forced back the tears I could feel stinging my eyes. If he took this away from me, too, I didn't know what I'd do. I handed it over to him, my arms stiff and jaw clenched.

"'Care and Cleaning for Fine Silks? Ugh, you really are a little girly boy, aren't you?" Dave hissed.

"It's so fascinating, don't you think?" I replied eagerly, fighting to keep the laughter out of my voice. Apparently the book was defending itself against Dave. I couldn't blame it. "You can hold onto it for awhile if you'd like to read it. I mean, we should have similar interests, since we're friends now." I couldn't quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice at that.

"I don't think so," Dave said with a glare as he tossed the book at me, and grumbled about not wanting to have anything in common with me. I caught the book deftly and hugged it to my chest as I turned away to fall asleep.

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The rest of our journey had me acting as a servant to Dave, and, by extension, Finn. Dave continued to claim I had a weak constitution and refused to let me eat, usually taking my portions for himself. Never had I been more grateful for the Tonic. Beyond that, he had me constantly tidying up the carriage, fetching firewood, and cooking food I wasn't allowed to eat. One time, Finn mentioned that we had a servant to do these things, but Dave just shot him an angry look and claimed I needed the exercise.

Finn had not worked out that I was required to be obedient. However, he had learned that if he repeated a command of Dave's, I would comply, but he attributed this to my character rather than compulsion. On a particularly hot day, Dave demanded that I fan him. I found a large plant frond for the purpose.

"Fan me too," Finn said hopefully, wiping at his sweaty brow. I reluctantly raised my free hand and began waving a second frond in his direction. "Kurt, you're so nice!" he would exclaim, never once thinking to reciprocate the action. I fought to bite my tongue constantly; I knew that sniping at them would only anger Dave and add to my chores and humiliation. I couldn't always hold back a derisive comment, but many went unsaid.

By the time we finally arrived at Dalton's Academy of Deportment for Young Gentlemen and Ladies two days later, I was exhausted. My stomach felt as though it was about to consume itself, my arms ached from constantly fanning the two boys and carrying firewood, and my head pounded just at the thought of Dave's sneering voice issuing another order. We arrived at about noon, so I hoped for heaping lunch portions.

"Welcome, gentlemen," Lord Dalton himself greeted us as we climbed out of the carriage. The three of us returned the salutation. Lord Dalton eyed my curtsy-bow with one raised brow. He gestured towards me.

"Pray tell, who is this?"

I spoke up quickly, before Dave could introduce me in an unfavorable way.

"My name is Kurt, Lord Dalton. I have a letter here from my mother, Lady Susan of Frell." I handed over the letter, as well as a change purse of silver coins Mother had packed for my tuition. After weighing the purse in his hands with narrow eyes, Lord Dalton smiled at me.

"Excellent. Very good, gentlemen. Welcome to Dalton's Academy. As you may have deduced, I am the Headmaster of this fine institution." Finn looked mildly surprised. "We've just finished lunch." I cursed internally. "And now the ladies are sitting down to sewing and the young gentlemen have jousting practice."

"Sir," I piped up after a glance at the malevolent grin on Dave's face, "would it be possible for me to join the sewing class? I have an interest in court fashions."

Lord Dalton gave me a strange look, but shifted the generous purse I had given him from hand to hand. "I suppose that would be acceptable…I suppose you want the chance to get to know the young ladies of the school?" he winked at me; I could feel my cheeks heating as Dave snorted and Finn rubbed his neck awkwardly.

After a word with the Sewing Mistress, Lord Dalton left me to show Dave and Finn to the jousting area.

"Ladies," Sewing Mistress called for attention, "I have a new friend for you to all meet." I felt several pairs of curious eyes on me and fidgeted under the scrutiny. "This is Kurt of Frell, and he will be joining us."

All the maidens rose and curtsied for me, and I responded with my awkward curtsy-bow. I heard a couple snickers and saw two girls giggling at me. They were both very beautiful. One had golden hair, fair skin, and vibrant green eyes. Her complexion was flawless and her bone structure immaculate. I thought to myself with no small amount of bitterness that she looked exactly like the kind of maid that Prince Blaine would one day marry. The other had skin the color of caramel and long dark hair. She pursed her lips and narrowed her dark eyes at me.

"Back to work, ladies…and gentleman," Sewing Mistress added as I shuffled to a nearby desk and sat down. Sewing Mistress handed me a swatch of fabric, a needle, and thread, and told me to practice my stitching. I stared blankly at the task. Despite my interest in fashion, I had never sewn anything before. Normally, I would be eager to learn, especially since I had noticed that I was starting to grow and my clothes didn't fit as well as they used to. Tailoring would be an important skill, at least for the duration of deportment school and until I could get home. However, my head ached from exhaustion and lack of food. My fingers trembled as I attempted to push the needle through the cloth. I frowned as the thread went completely past the swatch.

"You need to put a knot at the end of the thread so it won't go all the way through each time," I heard the girl across from me say, her voice tinged with amusement. I glanced up, ready to glare at her, but I saw she was smiling in a friendly way, so I softened my features. She was very beautiful, with dark skin, darker than I had ever seen before, like smooth chocolate, and very curly black hair. Unlike many of the maidens present, her body had generous curves and her face held a pleasant plumpness. She grinned at me before bending her head to make a tiny stitch in what appeared to be an alarmingly bright multicolored and striped gown.

"Thank you," I murmured. She glanced at me again and frowned in concern as my shaking fingers attempted to tie a tiny knot in the thread.

"My name is Mercedes," she said as she moved to sit beside me and take the thread out of my hands. She spoke with an interesting accent, and told me she was from Ayortha.

I repeated an Ayorthian greeting Samuel had taught me a few months ago, hoping I still had the pronunciation right. Mercedes's eyes widened in delight.

"You speak Ayorthian!" She began to say something in her native tongue, but I had to interrupt her.

"I actually only know a few words," I said, but at her crestfallen expression, I added, "but I'm a fast learner! I'm very good with languages."

"It would be so nice to speak with someone in my language," she replied happily, "I'll teach you! Repeat after me:"

The new order meant I could abandon my stitching for the time being. We spent the rest of the class in this manner. By the end of the hour, I had learned many new words, and was starting to create short phrases. Mercedes was very excited by my progress.

"Do you like Dalton's?" I asked her in Ayorthian.

She shrugged and avoided my eyes.

"Is it awful?" I asked with a frown, changing back to Kyrrian.

Before she could answer, a shadow fell over us. We looked up guiltily to see a very unimpressed Sewing Mistress, who scolded us for neglecting our work.

"Kurt, why on earth did you request to join this class for ladies if you aren't willing to do the work? You will go without dinner," she informed the both of us.

I winced at the thought of it, trying to ignore the pain throbbing in my head. I couldn't help from snapping out, "I'm not hungry."

"Well, then," Sewing Mistress replied angrily, "You shall do without breakfast as well, for your sass."

I tried not to picture Dave's inevitable satisfied grin at hearing of this news as my stomach growled loud enough for the whole class to hear.

**Poor Kurt. No luck whatsoever. But yay Mercedes! (Yes, by the way, the dress she's working on is a reference to her techni-colored zebra shirt from the show!) I love Kurtcedes 3**

**Next chapter: Kurt settles in at Dalton, and meets some other students. Who will he clash with, and who will he befriend? Meanwhile, Dave's terrible treatment of Kurt escalates.**


	7. Chapter 7: Dave's Order

**AN: Warning for this chapter: Non-con (a little worse than what was portrayed on the show).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or Ella Enchanted.**

While the rest of the school went to the dining hall, Mercedes and I parted ways glumly. A servant showed me to my room. I let out a long sigh as I took in my surroundings. I was to room with Dave and Finn, and another boy named Noah Puckerman. I clung to the idea of befriending Noah so that I could have an ally in my own room, but this hope was quickly dashed when Dave and Finn came into the room after dinner with another boy, whom I assumed was Noah. It was clear they had become friends; they were all laughing and shoving each other playfully. Noah was slimmer than Dave and shorter than Finn, but very powerfully built. He had an intimidating look about him, and a strange haircut: he was bald except for a thick strip of dark hair down the middle of his head that reached the nape of his neck. He glared at me when he saw me and I averted my gaze. All three boys stopped laughing and talking and just looked at me. The air thickened uncomfortably as I avoided meeting their eyes. I had tried to sleep during dinner time, but I was so hungry that I couldn't doze off. My head continued to pound with hunger and exhaustion, and now my heart had sped up and I began to perspire. I felt…uncomfortable. In fact, I felt afraid, I realized with alarm. I wondered if Dave had told Noah about my obedience, but guessed he had not. Dave seemed to enjoy having the power and knowledge to himself.

I breathed a little easier when Finn suggested they turn in for the night. Finn and Dave were used to having me around and began to change into their sleepwear, but Noah just stood there boring holes into my head with an intense gaze. I shifted, curling onto my side and facing the wall, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Better look away," I heard this new boy mutter.

An hour later, I was still awake, listening to the growls of my stomach, the snores of Finn, and the nose whistling of Dave. There was a quiet knock at the door. I slid out of my bed and crept towards the door, pausing when Noah shifted slightly and grunted.

I opened the door a crack and saw Mercedes beaming at me. She gave me a little wave. I ushered her into the room quickly. I didn't really want to get into further trouble and miss more meals at this point.

"Here," she whispered, offering me a pastry, "I snuck down to the kitchens; this was all I could get." I hugged her impulsively as a thank you. I didn't hesitate to wolf it down. I didn't even bother to savor the taste, such was my hunger. We sat down on my bed as quietly as we could, bending our heads together to speak as quietly as we could.

"It's my fault you missed dinner, anyway," she confessed, refusing to meet my eyes.

"What? Why?"

"The teachers here tend to…look on my unfavorably. Quinn and Santana never finish their work in sewing class, but they've never had to miss a meal. The teachers don't like me….because – because I'm different. It might serve you better not to be friends with me."

I stared at her melancholy expression in amazement. "Hush, no, don't say that. I don't think it is wise to choose friends based on what others think of them. Besides, what happened today wasn't your fault. I'm…I'm different, too."

Mercedes sniffed a little, but looked up and smiled. "Really? How?"

"Will you two shut up? The Puckarone needs his sleep," I could only assume Noah hissed at us. Mercedes jumped off my bed and scurried towards the door, leaving me with a grin and a wave.

There was a beat of silence after she closed the door behind her.

"I guess you're not as much of a freak as Dave says, Hummel," Noah whispered in the dark. I could hear the reluctant admiration in his voice. "If you've got girls visiting you in the middle of the night already. Even if it was that weird Ayorthian girl."

I coughed. "Right."

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I woke to an empty room the next morning. The upside of having to miss breakfast was that I could sleep in. I took the opportunity of privacy to look at my faerie tale book. It opened to a letter from Carol.

_My Dear Kurt,_

_Last night I made blueberry scones for Shannon and myself. We ate them but then realized I had made two extras. They would have been yours._

_I apologize; I didn't want to start off my letter talking about how much I am missing you._

_Your friend Samuel from the menagerie stopped by this morning with a present for you. It's a bright yellow bird named Pavarotti that speaks Gnomic. He says you met him during your last visit. You know, I think I have a recipe for parrot pot pie. _

_I'm only teasing. I promise to look after him until you come home, lovey._

_Yesterday afternoon, you had another visitor, and this one much grander. He also came with a gift for you. It was the young prince, and he told me he had captured a centaur colt, and he had promised to give you one. I told him I wasn't sure where we could keep the handsome little thing, and that you were away at deportment school. I must tell you, he seemed quite indignant at the news. He wanted to know what possible good could come from you attending Dalton's Academy. I had no reply, because I'd like your mother to explain it to me as well. _

_He told me he would raise the colt at the menagerie until your return. He asked me to tell you that the centaur's name is Apple. I fed the pretty thing his namesake before the young prince took him over to the menageries._

_Your mother left the morning after you. I confess I do not miss her; I hope you will forgive me. She told me she was off to barter with "leafies," which I gather is her rude name for the elves. She said she would not be returning any time in the next while._

_I long for you to come home. Shannon and I send our love, and I send my nagging: don't forget to drink your Tonic!_

_Love, _

_Carol_

I kissed the spine of the book as I closed it, asking it silently not to erase Carol's words to me. I drank my Tonic readily; I had become accustomed to its taste over the past couple days, as it was my only source of nourishment. I wiped away my tears, glad Carol did not know of my fate, living at the mercy of the abhorrent Dave.

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I soon learned that Dave would not be my only source of misery. Granted, he proved to be the reason for a lot of it, but he couldn't be blamed for the attitudes of others, even if he encouraged them.

It was readily apparent that Mercedes was at the bottom of the social hierarchy at Dalton's. The other students largely rejected her because of the color of her skin, and mocked her for her accent. I personally found it beautiful, the rolling "Rs" and slight lisps on the "S" sounds. Mercedes confessed to me that she had struck up a reluctant friendship with Lady Rachel. We both rolled our eyes at the necessity of it, and I resigned myself to further interactions with the shrill, severe girl.

Finn had taken my music note brooch for Rachel, but did not end up giving it to her. He learned very quickly (a feat in itself) that Rachel was not a suitable choice for a maiden to pursue. Dave routinely made fun of her nose, and Noah (or "Puck" as he preferred to be called) said he wanted to stitch her lips shut. I personally agreed with Puck, but I said nothing. The boys didn't want to hear my opinion about anything.

Finn instead began to spend time with Quinn, the blond who had laughed at me the first day. He seemed quite miserable whenever he was around her. She was quite obviously highly intelligent and impatient, but still allowed him to fumble his way through his courtship of her. She often spoke of a rich aunt, whom she hoped would die soon, so she could inherit the fortune and estate. It seemed that in addition to ignoring Rachel, Finn had begun ignoring me. I could tell he wanted to be popular, and spending time with the "freak" would certainly interfere with that goal. Quinn's dark-haired friend was called Santana, and this girl seemed to have a personal vendetta against Rachel for some reason. She constantly made fun of her, and by extension, Mercedes and I.

Rachel and I began to transition from reluctant acquaintances to friends during one music class. I was singing comfortably in my upper register, and Music Master noticed, frowning.

"Kurt, sing lower. You're a boy."

Bristling at the command and wondering why he was glaring at me, I sang as low as I could, perhaps lower than any other boy in the room could. Several people turned to look at me in surprise. Music Master looked both shocked and annoyed.

"No. Sing higher than that." I sang much higher, although not quite as high as before. We continued on with this little game, Music Master growing redder and redder, a vein starting to throb in his forehead, until Rachel interrupted, exasperated.

"Sir, why don't you just have Kurt sing something he likes so that you know where his voice will be best suited? If he is capable of singing higher notes, I do not mind a little healthy competition."

I was startled at this. Rachel turned and offered me a tentative smile, which I found myself returning.

After that, music became one of my favorite classes. Rachel, Mercedes, and I all agreed we were by far the best singers in the class, although we disagreed on which of the three of us had the top spot. The only other class I really enjoyed was language class. Language Mistress was pleased with my aptitude for accents and remembering different dialects. She gave me a book to study at a more advanced level. It covered Ogrese, Elfin, Abdegi, Gnomic, and Trollish.

The constant orders and commands from all my teachers had me improving in every subject against my will. It also made me something of a pet of the teachers, until I began my usual game in classes I did not enjoy. If Dancing Mistress told me to pick up my legs, my knees would shoot into the air, almost knocking Santana in the chin. When Combat Master ordered me to stretch before a jousting match, I would spend almost the entire hour stretching so that I wouldn't have to joust at all. Mercedes and Rachel were constantly amused by my strange brand of obedience, though they did not know the reason for it.

I hated the rest of my classes. I was forced to spend them with the boys. Despite my late night rendezvous with Mercedes, news had spread amongst the student population that I was a "freak" who had an affinity for the same sex. Boys refused to even take off their jackets in front of me. In our combat lessons, in which we were instructed to only pretend to hit when we weren't wearing armor, boys much larger than I slammed into me and swung their fists without restraint.

For the first while, Dave made me stick around him and his friends, subtly ordering me about. Eventually though, Puck unintentionally relieved some of my misery.

"If he's such a pervert, why do you keep letting him hang around us?" Puck asked Dave, annoyed. Dave's eyes widened slightly before he sent a menacing glance my way. After that, Dave only ordered me about when no one else would notice. I was grateful for the reprieve, but I should have known it would come at a cost.

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I carried a plate of freshly baked cookies down to the jousting arena. It was well after dinner, and Dave had told me to meet him there with something for him to have as dessert. I smirked down at the cookies, gleefully recalling the moment I slipped a truth herb into the cookie dough before putting them into the oven.

I spotted Dave tucked in the couple feet of space between a stone wall of the school and the wooden paneling of the jousting area. I frowned at his odd choice of location and wondered where his usual pack of friends was. I had made enough cookies for several boys, assuming he wanted me to feed his lackeys.

"Here you are," I said, extending my arms forward as I approached him.

"About time," he replied, grabbing a cookie and stuffing it in his mouth. He stared at me with some odd expression I couldn't name while he chewed slowly. Suddenly, I could see his eyes gloss over and slide out of focus in the dim light.

I began asking questions at once. "What would make you stop giving me commands?"

"Nothing," was his blank reply. A pause, then, "If I died. Or if you stopped obeying me."

Of course. I cursed my foolish waste of time.

"What are you going to order me to do in the future?"

"I make it up as I go."

"Why do you hate me?"

"You're everything I don't want to be, but I think that I am."

I gaped at this, unsure what to make of it.

"What are you scared of?"

"Being a freak. The way I feel. Death. Being alone. Spiders. Bats. Ogres…"

I interrupted him, knowing he would just keep going. I could see his eyes beginning to clear.

"What are your secrets?" I asked desperately. Dave didn't answer; instead, he shook his head slightly as if to pull himself out of a daze, and grabbed the front of my shirt. He yanked me forward so that our bodies were pressed flush against each other. My heart was hammering in my throat. What on earth was he doing?

Dave's vision came completely into focus and he noticed how he had pulled me against him. He shoved me away roughly and I winced as my back hit the wooden paneling of the jousting arena.

"What did you do to me?" he growled, advancing towards me, closing in on the small distance between us.

"I-I…you pulled me against you, I –"

"Shut up," he hissed. My mouth clamped closed. I was shaking violently. I was sure that the satisfaction he derived from ordering me about would not be enough this time. I closed my eyes, unable to say anything, ready for him to strike me.

"Kiss me."

My eyes flew open. "Wh-what? No!" I could feel the nausea building, but it wasn't entirely from the curse.

"Do it, freak. I command you to kiss me."

I strained against the pain, shaking my hand as I pressed against the wooden paneling. It didn't matter. Dave lurched forward, trapping my face with his hands, his nails digging into my scalp, his palms pressing hard enough to bruise against my cheekbones. Then, his lips were mashed against mine, moving sloppily. I was completely frozen, except for my lips, which were moving against his as little as was required by the curse. I felt something wet wedge between them, realizing with a kind of numb horror that he was jamming his tongue into my mouth. The curse did not let up; this was apparently still considered kissing. Dave seemed to know it would hold me in place, because he let go of my face, his hands raking down my back possessively. My eyes stung with tears as he gripped my backside roughly, pulling me against him completely and grinding his hips against mine. I could feel something hard pressing against me, and as soon as it occurred to me that this was no longer just kissing, I felt the spell release its hold.

With all the strength I could muster, I brought up my hands, previously balled into fists at my sides, and shoved against his chest, while I yanked my head back, breaking our lips apart. Dave stumbled back a little ways. I shook with fear and disgust as I stared at his stunned and panicked expression. I turned and began to scramble back towards the entrance to the school, tripping over my own quaking limbs.

"Kurt, stop!" I managed a few more steps before I fell to my knees, panting at the effort, trembling in terror and doubled over in pain. I forced myself to stand, frozen in place, listening to Dave's feet scuff slowly against the ground as he approached me. I flinched when he circled around to face me. Gone was the look of alarm; now, he looked at me with pure rage and hatred.

"You don't…you don't tell anyone about this. About what you did to me. I'm ordering you not to tell Mercedes or Rachel." He leaned towards me; I stopped breathing. "In fact, I forbid you to be friends with them anymore. Now go back and pick up the cookies you dropped. Wait an hour before you come back to the room."

After I had disposed of the soiled cookies, I slid numbly down the stone wall of the school building. I pulled my knees to my chest and pressed my forehead to them, just holding my whole body as tight as I could, so the shaking would cease.

**Oh man poor Kurt That was not fun to write. It can only get better from here, right? Right?**

**Next Chapter: Kurt figures out how to deal with Dave's command that he break off his friendships with Mercedes and Rachel. He also makes some new friends.**


	8. Chapter 8: Journey

**AN: Thank you all for the lovely reviews **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Ella Enchanted**

I was plagued with many thoughts during the hour I had to remain outside. At first, all I could do was replay the horrible…thing that had just happened over and over in my mind. I ground the heels of my hands into my eyes as if that would stop me from picturing it again and again. I thought to myself miserably, _If that's what kissing a boy is like, then perhaps I am not attracted to boys after all._ But then, I reasoned that I was also a boy, and would never try to kiss someone like that. Then I thought of Blaine, and how unlike Dave he was, how courteous and kind he was, how he treated all his subjects with respect, no matter how lowly. Surely, he wouldn't kiss like that. I had to push these thoughts from my mind, because thinking of Blaine only made me feel more alone. I couldn't turn to my friends here at Dalton's anymore; in fact, I was no longer allowed to be friends with them.

This issue worried me the most. What had happened with Dave had, well, happened. I could move on. But I wanted to scream at the thought of severing my friendships with Mercedes and Rachel. I tried to think of a way to go about it that wouldn't hurt them. If only there was some way to tell them everything. I knew I could trust them above all others.

I thought back to when I had told my two friends of my curse. Not the terrible gift from Terri, but the one I was born with. The three of us had been lounging beneath the shade of a tree one evening after dinner. Mercedes and Rachel were complaining about how often our peers ridiculed and teased us, Mercedes for her dark skin and accent, and Rachel for her nose and, when you were first introduced to her, her rather abrasive personality.

"Kurt," Mercedes said softly, to get my attention. I looked at her with a small smile. "On your first night here, you told me you were different. Would you – would you tell me what you meant?"

Rachel was looking on with eager curiosity, and Mercedes gave me a gentle, hesitant smile.

I took a deep breath, suddenly remembering Father telling me that a friend who wouldn't accept you as you were was not a friend worth having.

"I…I like boys."

Unlike Finn, the girls did not need further explanation. They shared a knowing glance. Unlike Dave, they did not seem angry or disgusted.

"You don't seem surprised," I deadpanned.

Rachel patted my hand indulgently. "Well, Kurt, you are kind of…lady-fabulous." Her face paled when I glared at her. She knew I hated the nicknames Dave and the other boys called me. "I-I mean in a good way! Because we all agree that women can be powerful, inspiring people. Just look at Language Mistress." I accepted her hasty explanation with an affectionate roll of my eyes.

"You don't have to feel ashamed of who you are, Kurt," Mercedes informed me resolutely, "There's absolutely nothing wrong with you."

"I try to tell myself that," I confessed, "I try to say to myself, let those louts think what they want; they have the collective intelligence of pond scum. But…but I just feel so alone." I sighed, staring down at my hands.

Rachel cleared her throat. "Kurt and Mercedes," she began in a very formal tone, "I value your friendship and the honesty you have displayed. In return, I would like to share a very strict confidence with you," she paused, eyeing us gravely, "but only if you swear you will never repeat what I am about to tell you to anyone else."

Mercedes and I nodded silently, smirking a little at Rachel's theatrics.

She smiled in return and smoothed the pleats of her skirt primly. "My mother and father were never a love match. They are great friends now, but they are certainly not in love. Since the joyous news of my conception…they have not been together as husband and wife." All three of us blushed at what that phrase implied. Rachel cleared her throat again. "The truth is, my mother never wanted to be married, and she is happy with her current arrangement, because she is afforded much freedom and agency as a woman. My father…" Mercedes and I leaned forward as she took a deep, dramatic breath, "is in love with another man." Rachel nodded significantly at our simultaneous gasps. "He is Mother's tailor. He and Father are like husbands to each other, and he is like a second father to me," Rachel finished with an affectionate smile. I could feel the heat from my face creeping down my neck and spreading to my chest.

"So you see, Kurt," Rachel beamed reassuringly at me, "I am confident that one day you will find love and happiness." Mercedes had chimed in her agreement.

Their easy acceptance and confidence in me had warmed my heart. Now, the memory was bittersweet. How I wished I could tell them of my other secret, so they could understand why I could no longer be their friend. But even if Father had not forbade me from telling anyone about Terri's spell, Dave's order would have prevented me. To give them an explanation would be an act of friendship in itself.

The end of my hour approached, and I could feel the tug of the curse set in. I still had no answers for my dilemma, and my mind did not cease in plaguing me with images of Dave's looming face right before he crushed his lips to mine. I stood and walked to the school; I had no energy to fight the curse, nor did I want to. I slipped into the room and pulled my magic book out from under my bed, and left again to sit in the hall. I couldn't stand to be in the same room as him, even if he was half asleep. I opened my book and gazed at it in the moonlight. The first page had a letter written from Sir Sandy to his sons. I skimmed over most of it; the large majority of it was dedicated to descriptions of various outfits he had worn to several different events at court. Normally, I would be interested in fashion, but Sir Sandy's apparel was enough to make one wish to go blind.

I almost turned the page when I saw Blaine's name written in Sir Sandy's extravagant, swirling cursive.

…_I attended a ball a fortnight ago and the ravishing Prince Blaine made an appearance. My, what a handsome young lad!_

I shuddered at Sir Sandy's description of Blaine as "ravishing;" it hardly seemed appropriate.

_I was desolate when I did not see the charming Lady Susan among the guests. I gather she is off travelling and trading, adding to her already sizable fortune._

As the letter drew to a close, Sir Sandy seemed to remember he was writing to his sons.

_I do hope, my dears, that you have been eating well and keeping your strength up. I am sure Dalton's Academy has polished you both into strong, strapping gentlemen, capable of entertaining admirers at court but also adept at combat and other manly pursuits. Alas, your poor Papa never had a chance to attend such a fine establishment at your age and relies on you for his protection and well being._

_David, I know you expressed distaste at associating with Lady Susan's son, but please do try to put up with the silly thing. I believe it is in our best interests to stay on Lady S's good side for the time being. Finnegan, I trust your studies are going well and that you have found a suitable maiden to pursue._

_My darlings, the carriage has arrived to speed me to another grand engagement at court. I am wearing my finest turquoise breeches paired with my favorite pink cape, and I must make haste._

_Your doting Papa,_

_Sir Sandy_

So Sir Sandy worried about staying in Mother's good graces. I rolled my eyes. It wasn't as though she would care how Dave treated me, and it was clear that Dave was not afraid of angering Mother.

I turned the page and was treated to a much more pleasant sight. On it, there was a picture of a beautiful, snow white centaur – Apple, I was sure – nuzzling his head against the shoulder of a young man – Blaine – who gazed at him fondly. I wondered if I would ever get to meet my centaur. A letter from Blaine to his father accompanied the illustration.

_Dear Father,_

_I hope this letter finds you healthy and happy in your travels to Ayortha. Mother and Sister are well, as am I._

_I confess, I am quite excited for my first foray into military duty. I am grateful for your belief in me, and I highly approve of the group of knights you picked out to accompany me in my travels and ogre-hunting. They are all of a loyal disposition, and all seem good-humored and open-hearted. We have all formed a bond over our love of music._

_Mother worries, of course, but I try to ease the worst her concerns. I tell her I will be perfectly safe, and I do not fear injury, only embarrassment, should I not conduct myself in a princely manner during an encounter with ogres._

I stared at the page, silently scolding Blaine. How could there be no danger, if ogre-hunting was his mission?

Blaine went on to describe the same ball that Sir Sandy had attended, although he neglected to mention what he had worn. It was a pity; I was much more interested in that than Sir Sandy's detailed accounts of his various ridiculous ensembles. He went on to discuss at length trade delegations with the giants; though I had no idea what he was talking about, I gobbled up each word written with his broad, sweeping strokes. It was like a soothing balm to my over-wrought nerves. My eyes widened when I spotted my name in his writing.

_I am training a centaur that I caught some time ago for a friend of mine. His father was the late Sir Burt. I admire the son, Kurt's, unique spirit, but have been told he has gone off to deportment school, where I fear he will be taught to become less admirable. Do you know what they teach in such places? Proper court etiquette, perhaps? Unnecessarily violent sports for the boys, and preening and curtsying for the girls? It seems such a waste._

I frowned at this. Despite my best efforts, I had learned a lot at Dalton's. I could certainly defend myself against an opponent of similar size and strength, and my awkward curtsy-bow was now as graceful and dashing as I recalled Blaine's to be. I wondered if these things took away from my uniqueness, a quality he apparently admired. I wondered if he would like me less now that I was so accomplished. Then I thought of the ogres and hoped he would be alive in the future to like me less.

I found on the next page a brisk but very important letter penned by Mother to Carol.

_Carol,_

_I am still with the leafies. Trading has been abysmal. Dealing with these stupid elves makes me want to spit acidic venom at them. They are terrible traders. I haven't yet been able to convince them to show me an authentic work by Holly, no matter what wares I tempt them with. Their chieftess, Tina, clearly knows little about bargaining. I think it's the miles of black and green hair weighing her head down so she can't think properly. I've as good as robbed her blind several times already – she gave me three elfin vases for one gnomic copper pot! I plan to get as much out of the idiot as I can. Don't for a second think this means an increase in your wages._

_I am writing to you to let you know I am extending my journey by a week or so. I am set to attend the wedding of an acquaintance of mine, a greasy, curly haired giant named William. The wedding takes place on his turnip farm in a fortnight. I think I might enjoy the novelty of a giant marriage ceremony, and if I get bored I could always sabotage it for some entertainment. In any case, I am told that it is rare for a giant's wedding to have no faeries in attendance. If I can trick a few into revealing themselves to me, perhaps I can acquire some faerie-made trinkets._

I could hardly breathe. Was there a chance that Terri would be attending this wedding? This sudden glimmer of hope spurred me into action. I knew what I had to do. I stole back into the room and quickly gathered up some of my things, only enough for one rucksack. I would miss the rest of my clothes, but I knew it was worth it to leave them behind. Sneaking out of the room once more, I tried to sort out the jumble of thoughts in my head.

Leaving right now without a word to anyone meant that I could sever my friendships with Rachel and Mercedes without being forced to ignore them and be in the same space as them, and they would hopefully still believe the our friendships were intact. I knew they would be hurt that I didn't bid them farewell, but it was the best solution available. I had promised Mother I would attend deportment school; I hadn't promised her that I would stay there as long as she wanted. If I left, I would never have to take another order from Dave. I would never have to see his scowling face, be reminded of what he did, and live in fear that he would do it again.

If I could find Terri at this wedding and beg her to lift the spell, I would never need to follow another order again in my life. I could be friends with Mercedes and Rachel. I could take Father's ring back from Dave's fat sausage finger.

I flipped through the pages of my book, hoping to find a map that would lead me to William's farm. Alas, the only map I could find was the one of Frell that I had already looked at. I set my chin resolutely. I would not let this deter me; I would simply have to ask someone for directions in the morning.

I could hear the nose-whistles of Dave, my tormentor, and the gentle snores of Finn, my once almost-friend, through the oak door.

"Good riddance," I whispered.

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It wasn't long after I had left the academy grounds that the sky began to lighten. I knew I should be tired, but nerves and adrenalin and hope gave me the energy to keep walking. I was glad for the small change purse Carol had given me when I left; as I arrived at the edge of a nearby village, I gave a baker his first sale of the day. I paid him two silver coins in exchange for a loaf of traveler's bread and his directions to travel north; he told me there were giant farms beyond the Elves' Forests where they made muffins the as wide as his sizable waist. He told me there was a fork in the path shortly after the Elves' Forests; I was not to go left, which would lead me to lands well populated with ogres, but to take the right-hand path instead, which would lead me to the giant farms. The whole trip would take five days by coach.

"How long will it take to walk?" I asked him.

He laughed incredulously at me. "To walk? Alone? Do you know how many ogre packs and bandits roam these parts?"

It wasn't as though I had a choice. I set off towards the north. I wasn't worried about Lord Dalton pursuing me; he would probably try to cover up my absence to avoid damaging the academy's reputation. I was, however, concerned about making it to the wedding on time. Mother's letter had indicated that it took place two weeks from now, so I hoped I could walk fast enough to arrive while Terri was still there. I clung desperately to the hope that she would be there at all.

For the first time in a long while, I felt light and happy. I was free of orders, free of Dave's torment and the bullying of the other boys. Free of Finn's furtive guilty looks. I skipped along with a smile, whistling or singing to keep myself entertained.

I spent two wonderful days traveling in this manner, choosing to do whatever I wished. If I wanted to dance around and flail my arms, I would. If I felt like taking my lunch under the shade of a willow tree, I did. I enjoyed the scenery and marveled in delight when I came across various creatures, such as deer, rabbits, and once a beautiful phoenix, burning and soaring in the sky as the sun set.

By the third day, my good mood had worn off. I had not yet reached the outskirts of the Elves' Forests, and I only had a little of my traveler's bread left. I worried that I would not reach the wedding at the rate I was going. I wondered if the baker's instructions were accurate.

By the fifth day, all my bread was gone and I wondered if I would make it to the giants' farms to wish the couple a happy first anniversary. There were still no trees in sight, only sand and low shrubbery. Once again, all I had to eat was Carol's Tonic.

On the evening of the sixth day, I was too plagued with hunger and exhaustion to notice that the land was gradually covered with more and more trees. I stumbled along, eyes on the ground, hoping to spot the leaves of a wild carrot or potato. I felt a tingle up my spine and thought I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye amongst the trees.

"Who's there?" I whispered, through dry, cracked lips. There was no reply. I saw movement again; the briefest glimpse of a long, lean figure with shaggy black hair. Was it an elf?

"Stroll in the shade," I managed to call, remembering the Elfin greeting Samuel had once taught me. Language Mistress would be proud of my pronunciation, indeed.

The figure emerged from the trees. He was tall, though not as tall as Finn, dressed only in a pair of breeches. His bare chest and stomach showed off his sleek, muscular frame. He looked at me curiously with dark, slanted eyes.

"You speak Elfin?" he inquired in his own tongue.

"A little." I tried to smile through my exhaustion, but his expression was so solemn that I couldn't manage it for long.

He asked where I was going, and I told him I was traveling to meet my mother, Lady Susan, at a giant's wedding up north. His eyes narrowed at the mention of Mother's name.

"Lady Susan," he repeated with a curl of his lip. He called her something that I thought could translate to "sly."

I held his gaze, determined to communicate that I wasn't "sly" as well. Those dark eyes held mine for what seemed like an eternity. I tried not to shift uncomfortably, reminded for some reason of every uncharitable thought I ever had towards Finn and every time I had snapped impatiently at Rachel. Then the elf smiled at me and spoke in broken Kyrrian.

"Not like mother." He extended a hand, which I shook, marveling at the waxy texture of his palm, just like a leaf. He pointed to himself with a shy grin. "Michael." With our limited knowledge of each other's language, we worked out that Michael would take me to meet his mate Tina, who was the chieftess of their tribe and spoke fluent Kyrrian.

Side by side, Tina and Michael were a very beautiful couple. Michael's slender yet powerful frame seemed to carry him everywhere in a sort of rhythm, as though he were perpetually dancing. Tina was shorter, but she radiated power and poise. Mother had been right about her hair; it hung, dark and sleek, down to her knees, streaked with green and woven with vines and flowers.

Tina confirmed that the baker's directions were correct. Upon seeing the bitter disappointment written across my face, she frowned.

"You will meet with your mother at the wedding?"

"It's not as though I'm rushing to meet her, but yes." I wanted to make it very clear that I was about as fond of Mother as Tina appeared to be.

"You hope to find something else among the giants."

"There's…there's someone I need to find. I think she might be there."

She smiled at me and patted my arm. "We will help you. You must stay the night, and we will send you on your way in the morning. You will see."

I enjoyed my evening with the tribe, supping on what was largely a liquid diet, attempting to learn more Elfin and laughing with the other elves who spoke little Kyrrian. Together, we seemed to find some way of communicating. I smiled contentedly as a few elves brought out instruments the likes of which I had never seen before and began to play a lively jig. Michael danced spiritedly, moving his body in ways I knew no human could imitate.

Tina came over and smiled widely, offering her hand to help me up. "Will you sing?" I didn't know how she had learned of my singing voice, but I agreed to her request shyly, as Michael nodded encouragingly.

I asked the band to play a song I knew. I waited as the first few notes rang out, and then let my voice soar, high and clear. It was a ballad about returning home and feeling as though you had never left. How I wished I could experience this, to feel happy and safe in Carol's embrace, to assist Shannon with whatever her current project was, to curl up in my own bed. I watched as Tina and Mike swayed together. He picked her up in his arms and twirled her about; she let out a peal of musical laughter. Watching them, my heart ached. Would I ever know how it felt to dance with a lover?

As the music and laughter died down, Tina led me to the sleeping area, where dozens of vine-woven hammocks hung among the trees. I asked if there was a lantern I could read by.

"The setting sun tells us it is time for rest. What kind of book could tempt you from sleep?"

I had been careful not to show my magic book to anyone, especially after the incident with Dave and Father's ring, but I felt safe showing it to Tina. She turned the pages carefully, exclaiming over the illustrations and laughing at the stories and poems she read. When she flipped back to the first page, it was filled with a new story.

"Faerie made!" she exclaimed. "It must bring you great joy." She returned my treasure to me and warned me not to read too late, reminding me of the long journey I still had ahead of me.

In the morning, I showed the other elves my book. They cried out in wonder at it; its pages filled with the Elfin language when they read it. Everyone was very careful with the book, clearly aware of how precious it was. Tina eventually pulled it away from the crowd, laughing apologetically.

"In exchange for giving us such happiness through your book, we would like to show you something beautiful as well." Mike stepped forward, cradling several carefully wrapped items in his arms. Tina unwrapped one and handed it to me. I was breathless in my amazement.

I held in my hands a miniature figurine of a phoenix. The wind seemed to rustle through its golden feathers and I could've sworn I felt the heat of the fire it produced. I watched in amazement as it transformed from a fully grown bird to a glimmering pile of embers to a darling baby, and kept repeating the cycle.

"Are these by Holly?" I dared to whisper.

"Yes," Tina sounded pleased, "the reason they are so lifelike is because Holly embraces life so fully."

I nodded in mute wonder as she handed me the second work. This one was a wounded gazelle. Its grace was only compromised slightly by a large cut in its leg, where blood seemed to flow freely, but never fell onto my hand or the ground. I nearly sobbed at the tragic figure and handed it back quickly so that my shaking hands would not drop it.

"There is beauty even in sadness, Kurt," Tina murmured as I wiped at my eyes.

The last figure was a sleek mountain lion whose muscles rippled under a layer of skin and fur. Its amber eyes glowed as it stalked some unseen prey.

"Thank you for showing me these," I said reverently as she began to wrap them back up. "Could you wrap this one last?" I requested, indicating the beautiful phoenix.

After they had all been carefully wrapped, Tina placed the phoenix in my hands. "For you."

I gaped at her. "I have nothing to give you…I-I've done nothing to deserve this great honor," I protested as she shook her head gently.

"We like to give away the best pieces sometimes," she told me, "when we can tell that the owner truly loves them. Perhaps if your mother had openly admired our things as much as you did, I would have been more willing to give them to her."

It looked as though Mother was wrong about Tina being an idiot trader.

Tina and Mike packed the amazing gift, along with enough elfin food and drink to last me until my destination, with a fat elfin pony. I was only borrowing the pony, but I could not get over their unending generosity. I was still murmuring thank yous as they sent me on my way.

"Stay in the shade, Kurt," Michael said in farewell.

"With any luck, you'll arrive before the wedding with no trouble!" Tina called as I waved good bye.

But I had never been a very lucky person.

**Uh oh. That doesn't sound good. Yay for a Tike appearance, though!**

**Next Chapter: Kurt must deal with a different kind of bully, but perhaps a friend will come along and help him out of a perilous situation.**


	9. Chapter 9: Persuasion

**AN: So what kind of trouble has Kurt got himself into now? Read on to find out!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee and I don't own Ella Enchanted**

I woke up the following morning to something sharp jabbing me in the ribs.

"Wake up, Ladyboy. How would you like to be served for breakfast?" an oily voice asked.

I opened my eyes and yet out a small yelp. I was surrounded by ten ogres. The biggest one persisted in poking me with a stick, although I was clearly awake.

"Would you prefer to be fried? Boiled? Or roasted over a fire?" He grinned at me, baring sharp, blood-stained teeth.

I glanced around in a panic and spotted a pile of bones nearby. I realized with horror that they had eaten Tina and Michael's pony. I turned over and emptied my stomach.

The ogre growled and slapped me across the face, his sharp nails drawing three red lines along my cheek.

He switched to Ogrese to speak to his friends, unaware that I understood every word, thanks to my studies with Language Mistress. "It will be sour for hours!"

One of the female ogres (I guessed she was female because she had less facial hair) spoke up. "Don't tell me you think you're going to eat it all by yourself, Azimio." The other ogres bared their teeth at the one called Azimio.

"I caught it! And I can't share with everyone; there wouldn't be enough to go around. It is too skinny. Besides, I allowed you all to eat the pony last night."

"That was last night," the female hissed in reply, "Now, it is morning, and I am hungry again!"

The two ogres lunged at each other, biting and scraping, and suddenly all ten were involved in the fight, either trying to pull Azimio and the female apart or simply joining in. I began to crawl on my belly closer to the large tree I had been sleeping under. If I could just climb up it, perhaps the ogres wouldn't think to look among its branches for me. It was a wild hope, but my only chance at escape and survival.

"Azimio! The food is escaping!" One of the ogres roared, and their scuffle was over as quickly as it had begun.

"Stop," Azimio called in Kyrrian. I wrenched myself forward another foot but then collapsed on the ground. The curse wouldn't let me escape.

Azimio began to cackle. "You see the secret it holds now? It is very obedient. No need to persuade it. It would skin itself alive if I told it to!"

I lay face down on the ground, gasping for breath as I recovered from the effects of the curse, and pretending I didn't understand anything they were saying. They argued for a while and decided they would bring me with them on their travels and wait to have me for breakfast the next day, when I would no longer taste of sick. They all continued to whine about their hunger and hoped to find other people and animals to add to their collection along the way. They allowed me to take my rucksack, and I wondered if I could chance a peek at my magic book; perhaps it could help me in some way.

Azimio asked if I had any food, and all the ogres became very excited when I said I did. Their glee quickly transformed to revulsion when I showed them the fruits and vegetables the elves had given me.

The ogres moved at a pace quite similar to the poor pony's. Azimio made me sit on his shoulders, and I had to grasp at his dark, oily hair to keep from falling the considerable distance to the ground. I noticed we were travelling south, away from the giant farms and likely back to the fork in the road that would take us to the ogre lands. It certainly made no difference to me whether I was consumed 40 feet or 40 miles from my intended destination. I was thankful, at least, that we did not come across other travelers. I would suffer my fate alone the following morning.

The further we went, the more the ogres grumbled about how hungry they were, and perhaps they could eat me tonight after all. They cast jealous stares my way as I dined on the food Michael and Tina had given me.

"Perhaps you should all try some," I suggested wryly, "you may find that you prefer legumes to legs and radishes to ribs." Several of them snorted with laughter, and what looked to be the youngest of the pack, a small female, addressed Azimio in Ogrese.

"Maybe we should wait and take the time to know our meals better. This one is quite funny."

"Don't try to make a pet out of it," Azimio growled in reply, "Just look at it! So delicate and thin. It will barely be able to feed a few of us, much less survive as a plaything."

I shuddered as the young female sent me a small smile. Without the compulsion, she could not hide the blood crusted under her nails or dried in the corners of her mouth.

As the ogres were settling down for the night, the young ogre approached me. "Do not be afraid."

Suddenly, the actual feeling of fear at the prospect of being devoured by ten ravenous ogres left me, though I remained aware of the danger on a logical level.

"My name is Zuzipepa. I hope you will be calm. I do so hate to see people upset," she patted my arm, as if in sympathy, "but I'm not yet adept at convincing them to feel better. I am working on it, though."

I did feel slightly calmer, although there was a little too much staccato present in her voice to be entirely persuasive.

"It has been such a long and trying day," she soothed, working to sound smoother, "and you must be so exhausted.

I nodded sluggishly, stifling a yawn.

"You can sleep by the fire near me; I promise I will protect you."

Despite my sleepy state, a tiny flare of hope ignited at the idea that she wasn't going to tie me up, and flickered out at her next words:

"But you mustn't run away."

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

I started awake some time later. It was still dark, but a full moon and cloudless sky provided enough light to see by. Zuzipepa was on her side, facing away from me. I could hear the gurgling and wheezing noises Azimio made as he slept soundly, a little farther off. I stood up silently and maneuvered my way through the dozing ogres, careful to avoid bumping into them, although their habit of sleeping on one another made it difficult to negotiate the living, breathing, shifting labyrinth of limbs and torsos. Once I was clear of the heap, I snatched up my rucksack and loped away.

I only made it a few paces before the pain set in. A few more steps and I was on my hands and knees, feeling as though I could vomit again and wincing at the throbbing in my head. I tried to crawl even further away but ended up turning in circles like a pitiful old dog. I ended up scooting closer to the ogres, but only just. I sat as far away as I could without feeling the effects of the curse so that I could think. _You must break the spell now,_ I told myself furiously, _there is no other way. There is no prince to give you a different order and save you. If you do not break the curse now, the ogres will soon wake and waste no time tearing you limb from limb._

"You must break it…th-the spell is broken, Kurt. You do not need to obey Zuzipepa's command. You may walk away whenever you feel like it," I murmured softly to myself, barely audible. I repeated these words and tried to move away but ended up clutching my stomach and blinking to clear my spinning vision.

I started to feel desperate. Perhaps I could persuade myself as the ogres usually did with their prey. I cleared my throat quietly, and tried to imitate Zuzipepa's smooth way of speaking,

"A spell is nothing. It is only made of silly words. It has no power over you. You can walk away. You need not stay with the ogres," I told myself, elated to find that I could take long, confident strides, and there was no pain or nausea! I had done it! I had broken that fool Terri's spell and saved my own life!

Then I looked down and saw Azimio's ugly face right by my feet. I had been walking towards the ogres, not away. I bit down on my lips to suppress a scream of sheer frustration. Hot tears sprang to my eyes at the thought of dying without ever having lived without this wretched curse. I went back to my spot as far away as I could manage and sat, staring desolately at the pile of slumbering ogres.

My voice had been rather persuasive, all lisping and breathy and silken. There stood a chance I could use this skill in another way. I practiced my persuasive voice in Ogrese, trying to make the syllables sound as oily and slippery as I could. At first, my voice was too rough, but I practiced the same phrases over and over, losing track of the time and falling asleep.

I woke to the sound of Zuzipepa practicing her persuasive powers on me. "It's time to wake up, little one. You were smart to stay with me through the night; who knows what bandit or animal may have attacked you in these dangerous lands."

I had to nod in agreement, picturing stealthy men dressed in black with blood-covered swords and feral creatures snapping their glistening teeth at my vulnerable flesh.

"Azimio," spoke another female, "we should eat it now, and you must share. I'm certain we will find more food later today."

Azimio seemed more agreeable after a night's rest. "Fine, but only if I get a whole leg to myself," the brute said, grabbing me by the shoulders and shoving Zuzipepa out of the way. The other ogres eagerly claimed the other portions of my body and I was soon divided up rather neatly. Zuzipepa seemed reluctant at first and said she wanted to keep me a while longer, but relented when she was promised my throat.

"It's the best part," she told me soothingly, and reached to pat my neck.

"I found it, so I get to kill it!" Azimio declared. There was a look in his eyes that said he was looking forward to the killing more than the actual eating.

"You…" my voice came out as a high-pitched yelp, but I tried again, "You're not truly hungry," I rasped out in Ogrese. My voice wasn't persuasive enough! I imagined swallowing a cup of oil to coat my throat.

The ogres had all stopped when they heard their language fall from my lips and stared in amazement.

"See," Zuzipepa piped up, "it is funny _and_ smart. Can't we keep it for a pet?"

The other ogres seemed to actually be contemplating the proposal, but then Azimio's belly let out a loud growl.

"Too bad I'm so hungry," he sneered at me, gripping my thigh roughly and lowering his head. His pointed teeth were just inches away, and another ogre had gripped my shoulders.

_More oil, more honey,_ I instructed myself silently. "How can you possibly eat me right now? You are all so full. You've all just had a grand feast of six fat elfin ponies and you can barely stand."

Azimio fell back onto his bottom, his grip on my leg loosening. I felt the hands on my shoulders slip away.

"The ground is so soft," I went on in my honeyed voice, "soft and relaxing. And you are all so tired."

Zuzipepa yawned and rubbed at her eyes like a little child.

"The sun has only just risen," I soothed, "it would be much nicer to sleep in and eat when there is room in your bellies for more."

Zuzipepa had curled into a little ball on the ground, and Azimio's head was lolling on his chest. The other ogres were all in similar sleepy states.

"And while you slumber, I will find you another wonderful meal. A meal of gnomes, and cows, and trolls, and piglets…"

"No peppers," Zuzipepa murmured, her eyes drooping shut.

I stared around, scarcely believing what I had just done. Sleep had claimed all the ogres once more. They lay in their tangled pile, wheezing and drooling. I stepped away from Azimio and couldn't stop a soft little giggle of triumph.

For once, I was the one making the orders.

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

My elation did not last long. I remembered that although I could apparently imitate the persuasive powers of the ogres, Terri's curse and Zuzipepa's command made it so that I could not leave them. I could hardly arrive at William's wedding with ten ravenous ogres, if I could even manage to control them for such an extended period of time. And as soon as I needed to sleep, the ogres would surely remember their hunger. Ogres were clever creatures and would probably know not to wake me before devouring me next time.

I heard a branch snap bind me and whirled around. I wondered if the elfin food I had eaten had any magical properties, because I saw a vision. It was cruel to tease me so; my vision consisted of seven knights carrying ropes and chains advancing towards me, led by a raven haired young man.

I shook my head slightly in astonishment. Visions couldn't actually break branches! It was Blaine!

His eyes met mine for the briefest moment as he pressed his finger to his lips, indicating that I should remain quiet. Then he shifted his attention back to the cluster of ogres and crept towards them, his men following close behind.

The ogres were sound sleepers, but as soon as the knights began to bind their feet and hands with the ropes and chains, their snorings and wheezings stopped. Azimio jolted awake with a loud roar, which quickly changed into a purring noise at the sight of Blaine.

"Your Highness, we are so very honored by your presence. But why would you bind us? We are your friends." Azimio's voice was pure silk.

I had to frown in agreement.

Azimio reached down to untie the ropes Blaine had tied securely around his ankles, but Blaine shoved his hands away roughly and tightened their hold. I gaped in shock. Never had I known Blaine to be so cruel!

The other ogres were trying to stir against their bindings as well. Azimio spoke again, his words slick and soothing, "My Prince, I would give my life to protect you, but I cannot if you tie me up."

Surely, Blaine could see the reason in that. I gawked stupidly as Blaine and his knights ignored the pleas and arguments of the ogres. Suddenly, Azimio lashed out, swinging a meaty fist at Blaine's temple. Blaine ducked and rolled out of the way.

It was as though Azimio's action had the rest of the ogre's springing into action. Although the knights were armed with swords and daggers, the ogres had an advantage in size, strength, and even number. The two sides were now fully engaged in battle. Zuzipepa and another ogre had a tall knight with golden hair pressed to the ground, and Zuzipepa was about to sink her teeth into his shoulder. He wrenched away at the last moment, but they grappled and soon he was being pinned down again.

Blaine had sprung to his feet, gripping his sword and facing off with Azimio, who clambered to his feet, panting heavily.

"Kurt!" Blaine called to me, rather loudly, since he was only a few feet away. "Can you tame them once more? If not, run away!"

Hearing his strong, clear voice jolted me out of the ogre's persuasive trance. I thought of honey and oil coating my throat again as I called out in Ogrese, concentrating on making my voice sound soft and lisping. "Azimio, Zuzipepa, all my ogre friends! Why do you attack those who are trying to help you? They have prepared a great feast for you, but cannot bring it forth if you act in this manner."

The ogres stopped biting and clawing and beating on the knights. They gazed at me with hopeful, trusting eyes.

"Yes," I confirmed silkily, "these brave men have two dozen plump baby giants waiting for you. It will be such a magnificent feast."

Azimio smiled blankly at me, and the others sent me dopey grins and eager looks of longing.

"But they cannot bring them out unless you cooperate. Once they've bound your hands and feet and gagged you, they will bring the babies out and then untie your binds. If you let them do it, they will be gentle and careful."

"Sit down," Azimio commanded his pack, offering his wrists to Blaine. The other ogres shook the ground as they fell to it complacently, remaining still so that the knights could wrap them in ropes and chains. Once the last gag was in place, Blaine straightened, wiping at his brow. I couldn't stop myself from watching a single bead of sweat trickle down his glistening throat and disappear beneath the collar of his tunic. I jerked my eyes up to his as he turned to face me.

"Kurt," he grinned, white teeth flashing, "It is so good to see you."

**YAY BLAINE! About time, amirite? Can you guess which character from the show Zuzipepa is supposed to be? It's real easy; I just had to change up her name to make it more like Azimio's which is what I'm going to consider to be an Ogrese-type name. **

**Next Chapter: Kurt and Blaine spend some time together, and Kurt continues on his journey, but this time he won't be alone.**


	10. Chapter 10: The Warblers

**AN: Ah sorry for the wait everyone! I'm afraid I got busy with school and then distracted by prompts at the Glee Angst Meme.**

**So Zuzipepa. I had a couple guesses of Becky (but remember she's Kurt's mean childhood friend) and Lauren (who is far too awesome to be a villainous ogre). Some people did guess correctly: Susie Pepper, the girl who had a stalker crush on Mr. Schue in Ballad!**

**My, my, several of you are quite impatient for some Blaine/Klaine! Well, never fear; Blaine is here! I should tell you though, that although this story is based on Cinderella and is pretty much guaranteed to have a happy ending filled with Klainey goodness, this is Kurt's journey, and Kurt wouldn't be Kurt (indeed, Ella wouldn't be Ella) if he had Blaine holding his hand the whole way through. Don't worry, though, Blaine's presence becomes increasingly significant as the story progresses.**

Blaine swept into a graceful bow, still grinning. "However did you tame the ogres?" His voice was still oddly loud.

"Well, I've become rather proficient at several languages and –"

"Pardon? Oh! Right, I forgot." Blaine proceeded to pull something out from his ears.

"Beeswax!" I exclaimed, "So that's why the ogres' persuasion didn't work on you."

"We always put it in as soon as we spot ogres; it's too dangerous otherwise. Our scout, Jeffrey, spotted you. He said that he saw a young lad about to be devoured by a band of ogres, but he talked them to sleep. How did you manage it?"

"It was quite simple, really," I replied, smoothing my bangs back, "I began to tell them about my lessons at deportment school. It wasn't long before their eyelids started to droop."

"Did you, truly?" For a moment, Blaine looked as though he actually believed me, but then he laughed. I had to smile; he had such a lovely laugh and I certainly enjoyed producing it.

"No, really, how?" he asked after a moment.

"I'm fluent in Ogrese now, so I spoke to them in their own language. I imitated their silky, oily way of speaking. I wasn't sure at all if it would work; they had all already claimed which piece of me they were each going to eat."

Blaine frowned and stepped closer to me. "How did they happen upon you?"

"I ran away from Dalton's Academy. They managed to surprise me while I was sleeping the other morning. They ate the pony an elfin tribe lent me." I felt sick just thinking of the poor thing.

"Was deportment school so terrible, then, that you had to flee?" Blaine looked at me with fascination.

I looked away, off into the distance. "Quite so. And you can see how it has changed me. I will do my mother proud; I am now the perfectly proper son she hopes to present to the civilized company at court. And I have ever so many achievements now, I assure you."

Blaine looked quite appalled at my announcement. "And...are you quite pleased with these developments, then?"

"Certainly," I replied arrogantly, barely restraining my smile. "I'm sure you would like to hear of them."

Poor Blaine shrugged awkwardly, his distaste for the topic very apparent. I carried on, prolonging his suffering; I knew he was far too polite to interrupt or make an abrupt change in conversation.

"For instance, I'm sure I could teach your knights a thing or two about how to fight. I was completely unarmed and faced ten ogres; your men were much more evenly matched and with armor and weapons. Combat Master would disapprove."

"I see," Blaine said politely, but I could tell he was very unimpressed at this point.

"It is absolutely necessary to fight dirty. Nothing must be held back."

Blaine smiled awkwardly. "Surely they did not teach you this during your formal lessons. Perhaps your schoolmates…"

"Combat Master taught us many techniques that came highly recommended by King Andrew himself," I assured him airily.

Blaine began to smirk. "Really."

"Of course. And, most importantly, I have become quite skilled with the use of this particular weapon." I pretended to hold something vaguely weapon-shaped in my hands.

"What is it?" Blaine asked, now beginning to play along.

I tsked. "It can only be a broadsword! Combat Master would be shocked! He might wonder if you were an imposter prince. How can you not recognize a broadsword when –"

"When I don't see one?" He was starting to chuckle now.

I wagged a finger at him. "You should be able to tell by how I hold it." I grabbed his hand and wrapped it around my forearm to demonstrate. His warm grip was firm and my belly flopped a little, but I wouldn't let that stop the joke. "The longsword is different; you must use two hands," I explained, taking his other hand. There was a long gash along his arm.

"Your arm! Did Azimio cut you with his nails?"

Blaine pulled his hands away. "It is but a scratch; I've had worse." He glanced at me and cupped my chin with his hand, turning my face to the side gently. "But these cuts on your face –"

"Only a flesh wound," I mimicked his casual air pointedly.

"Nicholas is a healer; I'll have him look at both of us," he promised me, dropping his hand. I hoped my face did not betray my disappointment. "What else did this Combat Master teach you?"

I rolled my eyes, recalling the ridiculous man's lectures and arrogance. "Combat Master has your father's ear, apparently, and is constantly recommending battle strategies and fighting techniques to him. He said the king would not hesitate to execute any soldier who could not master the longbow within the first month of his service. As a result of his instructions, I am quite proficient."

"How odd that I wasn't informed of this," Blaine feigned bemusement, "I must wonder at how at least two of my knights survived this strict rule. Indeed, I'll make sure not to inform Father of my own lack of skill with that particular weapon, as I do wish to keep my head."

I nodded solemnly. "A wise decision, indeed."

I proceeded to more accurately describe my stay at Dalton's. I had to omit many things, especially my encounters with Dave, so I told Blaine mostly of my other teachers.

"Language Mistress was really the only one who taught me anything of much value," I confided, "although, I suppose it is good to know how to conduct myself properly in court, so I can decide whether or not I want to."

Blaine started. "Clearly, I should be taking some lessons from your Manners Mistress, as I've clearly forgotten mine. I should have introduced my knights much earlier. Friends," he said, raising his voice to the other men, "David, Wesley, Jeffrey, Nicholas, Thaddeus, Trenton, Flynt, may I introduce our ogre tamer: Kurt. He's the lad I told you about, the one who also speaks Gnomic."

Blaine had told his knights about me! My heart leapt to my throat, but because of my training, I still managed a perfect bow.

"At last," Sir Wesley said sternly, "we were wondering when you would remember to be polite, Blaine."

Suddenly, Azimio made a strangled noise and wiggled against his bonds. Blaine and I walked over to him.

"Ogre," Blaine said, his tone abruptly imperious. I had never heard him speak in such a manner before "The idea that we are planning to feed you infant giants is about as true as your allegiance to my father and myself. However, my knights and I will spare your lives, unless you force us to do otherwise."

Azimio's eyes widened in understanding and he began to struggle furiously against his bonds. The other ogres soon followed suit, making useless grunting noises. They gradually stopped their movements, and Azimio suddenly shot me a glare so full of seething hatred that I took a step backwards. Then I set my jaw and glared right back at him.

"I am not a thing, I am not your meal, and you are never going to eat me. How does it feel to be tricked into doing something against your will?" I added with a sneer. The vindication felt amazing, and I beamed at Blaine. For some reason, his cheeks colored and he looked away.

Sir Nicholas tended to everyone's wounds, and then we all sat down and had a lunch of raisin bread, cured ham, and dried fruit. I was ravenous, but tried to exercise some control so I wouldn't embarrass myself in front of all of these noble men.

After lunch, we set out on the road, heading in the direction of the giant farms. Blaine insisted I take his horse while he walked, despite my protests.

"You've been through quite the ordeal," Blaine said, annoyingly reasonable, "and I'm sure you are exhausted."

He didn't issue an order, but that velvety voice and those kind eyes were almost as persuasive as the ogres. I grumbled a bit, making it clear that I wasn't some damsel who needed to be coddled but eventually heeded his request. Several of the knights looked quite amused.

"The king should be quite pleased," Sir Jeffrey said excitedly, "Ten ogres brought down by eight men, and with no injuries or deaths!"

"Nine men," Blaine corrected him as smiled at me. "I'm sure he'll be interested to learn that humans can use their tricks against them. At least, Kurt can."

"If we manage to convey the brutes to King Andrew without trouble, which seems quite unlikely," Sir Thaddeus worried. "How can we possibly do it?"

"We will come up with something," Blaine assured him, "it appears their bonds are strong enough. I suppose it might be a good idea to put the wax back in our ears once Kurt leaves us, in case a gag slips."

"What about feeding them?" Sir Thaddeus carried on in his intense way.

"You worry too much, Thaddeus!" laughed Sir Nicholas, "I think our triumph calls for a song of celebration! What say you, lads?"

After several "ayes," Sir Nicholas began to hum, and the other knights joined in gradually, layering the song with harmonies.

Blaine leaned towards me. "Father has dubbed us 'The Warblers,' because we are all so fond of singing. I believe it is half-affectionate, half-teasing," he said with an amused roll of his eyes.

"It sounds beautiful," I replied, marveling at the complex arrangement that the knights had spontaneously created.

"Will you join us?"

I suddenly felt very shy and shook my head. "I'm afraid I should rest my voice after all that Ogrese," I told him, which was partially true: my throat did feel quite raspy.

"Of course," Blaine smiled and patted my knee before joining the other Warblers in their song, adding his own rich tenor. I closed my eyes, savoring the joy and liveliness evident in their voices.

**Oh my! Did I slip some sword-related innuendos in there? I didn't plan that; I'm a total baby penguin like Kurt, I swear!**

**Also, some wild Warblers appear! Yey.**

**And, there may be a reference to Monty Python in this chapter. Just sayin.**

**Next chapter: Will Kurt make it to the wedding on time? Will Terri even be there? **


	11. Chapter 11: New Friend

**AN: Hi everyone! I am sorry for the delay! I was in school for the month of July, and it was very emotionally draining and tiring, and then once that was done, I had major writer's block and was also in the middle of moving. But inspiration finally struck. This chapter is the longest one yet so I hope that makes up for the delay a little. I hope you enjoy! Expect the next chapter within the next day or two. Thank you all for the lovely reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Ella Enchanted.**

My travels with the ogres had taken me away from the fork in the road that led up to the giant farms, but by nightfall, Blaine, the Warblers, and I had reached it again and decided it was a suitable place to set up camp for the night. I felt uncomfortable as I noted how close the ogres would be to me as I slept, but Blaine assured me that the knights had taken extra care to check their bonds and tighten the gags on their mouths. As we settled down, the uneasiness in my heart dissipated. We happened to arrange ourselves so that I lay perpendicular to Blaine, my head resting just inches from his torso. I turned my head and craned my neck to gaze at his face, handsome in the flicker of the firelight. Those long, thick eyelashes fluttered as he opened his eyes and smiled at me reassuringly, sending warmth spreading through my entire being in a way the heat from the fire never could.

I turned to gaze at the starlit sky with a sigh, enjoying the feeling of being able to fall asleep with relative peace of mind. The ogres were nearby, but with Blaine so close and the knowledge of my own apparent skill in persuasive Ogrese firm in my mind, I felt safe for the first time since I had left home.

The next morning, I awoke suddenly but remained still. I could feel the sunlight on my face and an unfamiliar weight resting on my head. I opened my eyes and shifted just a little, casting my gaze towards the source of the weight.

Blaine was sleeping, curled on his side towards me. One hand was tucked under his head, cradling his face, but his free arm was stretched out towards me, and his hand was against my head. His fingers had slipped in between the various strands of my hair, just resting there, as if they had stopped moving mid-stroke. I could feel my face turning red and my pulse quickening and cursed myself. Blaine was my friend, a very good friend. I didn't want to scare him off. I remembered how Finn had reacted when he finally understood what Dave meant by "freak." That had been unpleasant enough; I didn't think I could bear the hurt if the same thing happened with Blaine.

As I tried to calm myself down, Blaine's eyes slid open, focusing on his hand in my hair. "Oh," he said quietly as he met my gaze and withdrew his hand calmly, offering a little smile.

"I apologize, Kurt," he whispered in an effort not to wake his Warblers, "I must have reached out in my sleep."

"It's fine," I managed to reply, and returned his smile.

We decided to search for firewood to start a fire for breakfast and rose quickly, careful not to wake the others. We split up as we entered the nearby thatch of trees, but just as I had gathered a small bundle of kindling in my arms, I heard Blaine calling me softly. I made my way over to him, using the sound of his voice as a guide.

I pushed past some shrubbery and entering a clearing with a little pond. Blaine stood in a patch of sunlight, shading his eyes as he looked up at a tree. As I drew closer, he pointed to what he was looking at.

"Look," he murmured, and I saw a helpless little squirrel with its hind leg caught on a branch. The poor thing was struggling and clearly in pain.

Blaine was shedding his overcoat. "I need to go help it," he informed me, folding his coat on a nearby fallen log.

"No, Blaine; it's too dangerous!"

"But Kurt," Blaine turned to look at me, his eyes round and sad, "I can't just leave it there. It will be eaten by some predator or starve to death."

I sighed and began to shrug out of my own coat.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, we can't have you breaking your royal neck, now, can we?"

"Kurt, that isn't necessary! I know perfectly well how to climb a tree!"

"I'm sure you do," I placated him as I approached the base of the tree, "but you can hardly carry on besting ogres if you break a bone."

"Well," Blaine hesitated, but I was already starting to climb, "just please be careful!"

An order. I would be ever so careful.

I nimbly made my way up the tree, taking every caution possible, until I reached the little squirrel, about 12 feet up. The little thing seemed to panic as I drew near to it.

"Shhh," I murmured gently, "there's no need to be afraid. I'm going to help you."

Oddly enough, the squirrel seemed to understand my tone, if not my words, and stopped struggling about. I extracted the leg that was wedged at an awkward angle between two branches and held the dear thing in my hands.

"Is it hurt?" Blaine called up. "How badly?"

"I don't know," I hedged, "I will have to let it go and see how it fares." I set the squirrel down and watched it scamper down the tree, reveling in its own freedom. As it carried on, however, it began to limp more and more, and actually fell the last couple feet to the ground. Blaine grabbed his overcoat and rushed to the squirrel, wrapping it gently in the soft material of the coat.

"Unfortunately, I think its leg is broken," he told me. I felt bad for it, but then looked around at my own predicament, and how far I was from the ground. The tree was made for climbing up, but its design would not help those wishing to descend.

"I fear I will suffer the same fate," I called to Blaine, nodding at the distance I had to go, "I didn't think of this before I started to climb!"

Blaine tilted his face up and smiled at me, a sparkle in his eyes. "You needn't trouble yourself, Kurt. When you jump, I will be here to catch you!"

I looked at him dubiously, but he simply moved closer and raised his arms towards me, beckoning with his hands. "Are you certain, then?"

At his nod, I lowered myself on the branch so that I was hanging just by my hands to decrease the distance of the drop. I took a deep breath and let go.

"Oof," Blaine huffed out at I collided with him, and together we tumbled to the ground, falling in a tangle of limbs so that I ended up right on top of him, our faces mere inches apart and chests pressed together. I blushed at the proximity, unable to resist staring into those lovely hazel eyes for a moment before I hastened to get up and put some distance between us, muttering my apologies. Despite being flat on his back, Blaine tried to help me stand up, unhooking his leg from around mine and supporting me by the waist. I was positive I looked as red as a tomato, but I stretched out my hands nonetheless to help Blaine up.

"You didn't injure yourself?" he asked as we dusted ourselves off and I avoided his eyes. I rolled my eyes at his needless concern and assured him I was not hurt. We made our way over to Blaine's coat and the squirrel.

"Poor thing," I cooed as I picked the bundle up and cradled it in my arms. The squirrel's leg was bent at an odd angle.

"Aww," Blaine sighed out pityingly at my side, reaching forward to brush a finger gently over the squirrel's head. I could feel his breath against my cheek, and his free hand rested on my shoulder. I hoped he wouldn't notice the tiny shiver that coursed through me. For a royal, Blaine appeared to have no real sense of personal space. Not that I minded.

"Do you mind if I take care of it, Blaine?" I asked, cuddling the squirrel and the jacket closer, but keeping careful not to crush it.

"That sounds like a fine idea, Kurt. I have no doubt those ogres will be keeping me busy. Your choice of pet is better than mine," He joked, nudging his shoulder against mine.

Blaine gathered our firewood and I carried the little squirrel back to our camp. The knights had awoken during our absence and were waiting for Blaine to return to have their breakfast. As we ate, I fed my hungry new pet bits of bread. The conversation soon fell turned to the transportation of the ogres. As Blaine and the knights talked, I despaired of reaching the wedding in time to possibly find Terri. My time spent with the giants had set me back substantially. There was no way I could reach the giant farms within the next few days on foot. What concerned me most, though, was that Zuzipepa's command was still intact; I could not leave the ogres.

Sir Thaddeus's morose tone interrupted my worries. He was anxious once again about safely moving the ogres. "We'll have no choice but to drag them along. And how can we possibly gain their cooperation?"

"Kurt can make them do whatever we say! He should come with us and use his persuasion to keep them obedient," Sir Jeffrey piped up eagerly.

"The prince knows that to do," Sir David asserted calmly, "What shall the course of action be, Blaine?"

Blaine spoke with confidence and authority. He really was born to lead. "Wesley, you will escort Kurt to his desired destination. David and Flynt will ride to my father to recruit assistance. Jeffrey will continue to act as our scout. Thaddeus, Trenton, Nicholas, and I will take turns guarding the ogres and hunting for the remainder of the journey, or until my father's men join us. We will continue to use the wax, and the ogres should be complaint enough when they consider the sharpness of our swords and daggers."

"I'd rather stay with you, Blaine," Sir David said.

"You and Flynt are the fastest riders. I'll be counting on you to reach my father quickly."

Sir David nodded, straightening a little in his seat at Blaine's praise.

"Kurt shall be completely safe with me," Sir Wesley declared with conviction, "No harm will come to a single hair on his head. I –"

"Unless he talks him to death," Sir Nicholas joked, "It is best not to get him started on the subject of law, Kurt. It was the focus of his studies and once he gets started nothing will shut him up!"

"Well, Wesley is certainly better company than the ogres," Blaine smoothed things over while Sir Wesley scowled at his chuckling friends. "But Kurt, why didn't you go back to Frell once you left deportment school?"

"My mother is trading up north near the giant farms, and a giant wedding is taking place soon. She wrote that they are quite interesting. I thought I might join her there."

Blaine's brow furrowed. "You travelled alone and put yourself in danger to attend a wedding?"

I could feel my cheeks heating up and could not meet his eyes. He clearly thought I was a fool.

Sir Thaddeus spoke disapprovingly. "It is fortunate that most young Kyrrian lads do not take it upon themselves to travel alone in lands where ogres run wild. Our task is trying enough without having to rescue them."

Now my cheeks were positively burning, but it wasn't as though I could explain my real reason for going to the wedding.

"If more of the lads in Kyrria could tame ogres as Kurt does," Blaine said, "we would have a much easier job to do, Thaddeus."

I sent Blaine a small smile and he winked and beamed back at me. Perhaps he didn't think me such a fool, after all.

After we had finished breakfast and packed up camp, Sir Wesley mounted his horse and Blaine gave me a leg up behind him. As soon as I sat astride the horse, the symptoms of my curse began to set in. My head spun and I feared I would fall off the horse as soon as Sir Wesley spurred him into movement. Zuzipepa's order was not going to let me get too far.

"I don't like leaving you in danger," I said to Blaine through gritted teeth as I began to dismount.

"Go with Wesley," Blaine said reassuringly, "No harm will come to us; I promise."

I thanked him silently for the order. I was free to go. I sighed in relief when I felt curse's effects abate and settled onto the horse behind Sir Wesley. Sir Jeffrey handed me the squirrel, now swaddled carefully in some of the extra cloth the knights had for dressing wounds.

Blaine grasped one of the reigns before Sir Wesley could slap them against the horse and looked up at me.

"When shall you return to Frell?"

"After the wedding, hopefully," I told him, "if mother doesn't send me back to Dalton's or desire me to travel with her?" I wondered at his inquiry. Did he want me to return to Frell? "Why do you ask?"

He looked at me for a moment, his mouth opening slightly, but then glanced away, narrowing his eyes as he gazed into the distance. "I should be back within the fortnight. These expeditions never take too long." He spoke with the surety of a much older man, one who had been on hundreds of ogre-hunting ventures. Sir Wesley snorted, though Blaine did not seem to hear him.

We gripped hands quickly in farewell.

"Perhaps we will meet again soon, then," I replied, "and you can tell me about all the ogres you manage to catch."

"Perhaps you can tutor me in Ogrese and teach me the art of persuasion."

I spoke to him in Ogrese as Sir Wesley kicked the horse's sides and the animal started to walk. "It means 'so long.'"

"It sounds rather ominous."

I twisted in my seat to face him with an impish smile. "It is."

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, I did not heed Sir Nicholas's warning and during mine and Sir Wesley's travels, the conversation somehow turned to law, proving the knight quite talkative indeed. He spoke at length and in great detail about several famous cases in the Kyrrian courts and told me of his ambitions to one day be a judge in the king's court.<p>

"There is something about commanding a room, Kurt," he informed me fiercely, "something powerful in slamming that gavel down and demanding order. It speaks to the ultimate purpose of government: keeping society from descending into chaos and anarchy."

"When do you think we will reach the giant farms?" I managed to interject on one of the rare instances when he seemed to take a breath.

"At our current pace, I'd imagine it will take us another three days."

The wedding was in three days! What if we arrived after it ended?

"Is there any way we can go faster? I don't need to sleep long."

"Neither do I, but my horse certainly needs to have a decent amount of rest," Sir Wesley replied sternly. He then launched into a story about a court case involving the rightful treatment of domesticated animals as I tried to surreptitiously kick the animal's sides. Sir Wesley didn't notice my efforts, but neither did the horse. Once his tale was over, I quickly spoke up.

"Do you like serving under the prince?"

"Some men might consider it embarrassing to have to answer to such a young lad," he said after a moment's consideration, "but Blaine is sensible and amiable, and I am a toiling knight."

"A toiling knight?"

"Not so pampered that I cannot care for my own horse, nor so selfish that I do not have time to serve my king or my prince."

"And is Blaine a toiling prince, then?"

Sir Wesley nodded. "You know him well. I never saw a young man so eager to learn to do a thing right, and to do the right thing."

Sir Wesley was almost as enthusiastic about Blaine as he was about law, but while I had grown tired of him droning on about the latter subject, I was quite content to listen to him talk about the former. According to the knight, Blaine was quite wonderful. He was a fast learner, a formidable swordsman, and a clever fighter. And he was kind. The Warblers' departure from Frell had been delayed by Blaine's kindness, when a fruit seller's cart had overturned on the road ahead of them.

"The little old lady was screeching about how all her produce would be trampled and ruined. Blaine had us right the cart and fix the broken wheel, and then he spent a good half hour scrambling about, saving stray oranges and melons."

"Just as he saved me."

"You're a great deal more valuable than a grape or a berry to Blaine, in my estimation. And you hardly needed rescuing. We've never caught an ogre so neatly nor so quickly before."

"We have become good friends," I replied, grateful I was seated behind Sir Wesley and he could not see my blush. I turned the conversation back to the prince.

"He's very smart and very steady. Maybe too steady. Perhaps a little too serious for one so young, and that's coming from me," Sir Wesley chuckled, "He has a good sense of humor, but he doesn't laugh often enough, nor does he play enough. I think he spends too much time with the king's advisors, a bunch of very formal and very traditional men." In a rare moment, Sir Wesley fell silent. "He laughed more during the course of one day with you than in all the weeks we have been travelling together. As a result of his birthright, he cannot frolic with other young people. They are always on their best behavior. Except for you, Kurt."

I let out a quiet gasp of alarm. "I didn't behave badly, did I?"

"I don't think so," Sir Wesley said slowly, "You were yourself. Natural. Not like a reserved young gentleman of court."

I smirked to myself. Manners Mistress would be most displeased.

* * *

><p>We spent our nights at inns. On the first night, I pulled out the phoenix Tina had given me. Sir Wesley marveled at it and recognized it as a Holly original. He began to recount a motion to lift the ban on unmonitored imitations of the works of great artists that had passed through every stage of government, but King Andrew had refused approve the appeal, stating that works made by the students of great masters needed to be clearly labeled so that traders and sellers could not cheat their patrons. Apparently, Mother had been indulging in some illegal activities. I made my squirrel a little bed with one of my pillows as Sir Wesley rambled on, and when his words began to slur as he drifted off to sleep, I pulled out my book from Carol.<p>

The first page held advice on caring for squirrels, including what they liked best for food and recommended materials for making a brace for a tiny broken limb. I made note of this before turning the page, revealing a letter written in sloppy, hurried strokes.

_Father,_

_Lady Susan's weird son has disappeared from Dalton's Academy. He must have left in the middle of the night. I say good. I always thought there was something strange about him. He isn't normal, and nobody here liked him. I was always nice to him but he was very difficult and unfriendly towards me and my friends. I don't understand why you insist on associating with these Hummel people. At least I won't have to put up with him anymore._

_School is fine. I haven't met any marriage prospects, but for some reason Finn has two different girls ready to scratch each other's eyes out over him. I don't get it. Other than that, I'm quite popular here, and my friends and I know how to keep our inferior classmates in their place._

_I don't really have anything else to say._

_David_

My mouth twisted in distaste as I took in Dave's rude words and omissions of truth. On the next page was a letter from Finn to Sir Sandy. I cringed at the spelling mistakes.

_Dear Father,_

_I am so confused. My head doesn't seem to be working properley these days. Girls are so mysterius. I feel like I really love Rachel, but I know you said she isn't an acceptible choice for marrage and my freinds say I shouldn't bother with her. Quinn is really beutiful, but she's also kind of mean. I do not know what to do._

_Kurt went missing. I know you said I should become his freind, but most people here didn't like him very much. He is really diffrent than most boys here. And after a while, it seamed like he didn't want to talk to me anymore. Still, I hope he is well._

_School is hard. I wish the teachers wouldn't get so mad at me. I really am trying. I wish I had a teacher that could be a little more pashent. _

_Your son,_

_Finnegan_

My eyes smarted and I squeezed them shut, hoping Sir Wesley was now sound asleep. What a coward Finn was! I didn't understand him; he was such a big, strong boy, and yet he was always afraid to do anything that would jeopardize his popularity or act in a way that would earn disapproval from others. I thought of Rachel, and how many tears she had wasted over this undeserving idiot. She was perhaps a bit difficult and grating, but she was truly a good person who deserved better than being Finn's second choice. I thought of how lonely I had felt on the journey to Dalton's and how isolated I felt among the other boys and how Finn could have remedied that, if only he possessed any strength or courage, and for a fleeting moment, I was angrier with him than I was with Dave.

I turned the page and found the story of Aladdin's genie. He had fallen in love with a pretty village girl, but her jealous suitor used magic to trap the genie in the lamp. He could grant anyone's wishes but his own, and spent year after year pining for his lover, wondering what had happened to her, whether she had ever married the crafty suitor, whether she had grown old or died, all while serving whatever master happened to possess the lamp.

I closed the book after that, convinced that it was determined to upset me tonight. I realized suddenly that I was crying silently. I wasn't imprisoned in a lamp, but like the genie, I was not truly free.

* * *

><p>Around mid morning of the third day of my travels with Wesley, I noticed that things were gradually getting bigger. Shortly after noon, we passed a patch of pumpkins each as wide as the horse we rode on. Soon after that, we spotted a giant in the distance who was picking flowers as long as I was tall. I squeezed Wesley round the middle in my excitement.<p>

"Kurt!" he yelped in complaint, "You are not a corset!"

"Sorry," I replied happily as the giant thundered towards us, grinning widely and calling out in Abdegi, a series of screeches and whistles. As she neared, the horse reared back in fright, but she extended a hand and petted the animal's nose with a finger. The horse calmed in response and even rubbed against the giant's thigh.

"Hello!" I called to her in her own language, "We have come to witness the wedding of William and Emma," I added in Kyrrian, "Hopefully we are not too late?"

"I am she," Emma replied cheerfully, crouching down to speak with us, "and you are just in time! I was just gathering the last of the flowers for the ceremony."

"I hope you do not mind us joining the festivities," I added politely once she had revealed her identity.

"No, no! Don't be silly. I cannot thank you enough for coming, actually! Giants love strangers," she paused, gazing at us with incredibly large, wide eyes, "and friends, too. There will be many strangers and friends present when I marry Will today!"

Her incredible enthusiasm and cheer was infectious, and I felt the happiest I'd been since I last saw Blaine. I let myself feel cautiously optimistic as Emma's house came into view about the wedding; perhaps Terri really would be there, and perhaps somehow I could convince her to break this awful curse.

**Next chapter: Kurt attends the giant wedding ceremony of Emma and William and discovers something about his new friend the squirrel. Will he find Terri? Read on to find out!**


	12. Chapter 12: Giant Wedding

**AN: Thank you for the reviews everyone! I see someone caught the nod to Wes/gavel in the last chapter; I am most pleased. Someone was laughing at Emma being a giant. Well I warned you there would be strange, cracky relationships; there are also bizarre things like Emma being a giant and Shelby being a gnome ;)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own much, especially not Glee or Ella Enchanted**

When we arrived at Emma and William's new home, Wesley said his goodbyes. Emma begged him to stay but he told her that he had brought me to find my mother and about the ogres he needed to return to.

"Ooh ogres!" she exclaimed with a shudder, "They're so very messy. They never wash. Their nails are always caked with…" she trailed off. "It's my wedding day; we shouldn't talk about such unpleasant things."

Emma insisted on giving him food for his journey, and when he left, his horse was weighed down by a chicken wing the size of my torso and an enormous slice of potato.

"I'll tell the prince I've left you in large, caring hands," Wesley said to me as he departed, grasping my hand and nodding at a beaming Emma.

Emma introduced me to her husband to be, William, who smiled down at me and welcomed me with enthusiasm.

"The young lad is here to find his mother," Emma informed him.

"Lady Susan of Frell," I clarified. I noticed that William pulled a face at Mother's name but his friendly smile slipped quickly back in place, though it seemed a little strained.

"So this is Lady Sue's son," he stated pointlessly, and then sighed. "I'll go find her and tell her you are here."

"Please don't," I requested quickly, "I…want to surprise her."

William seemed ready to accept whatever explanation I could give him if it meant he did not need to seek out Mother. I wasn't surprised that she had failed to make friends with the giant, but I did wonder at what she had done specifically to antagonize him.

"Of course! I love surprises. Well, Kurt, please join us in the barn, where the ceremony will be taking place." The couple showed me out to the barn and urged me to go inside, informing me that they needed to wait until the marriage ceremony began to enter the building. I slipped in, hoping to go unnoticed, and surveyed the room. It was full of all kinds of folk; many giants were of course in attendance, towering over everyone else, their knees generally level with my face. But there were also gnomes, humans, and a few elves. Carol had told me that most faeries looked just as humans did, but Terri would stand out in a crowd because she chose to. I hoped that she was actually in attendance and that I would be able to tell somehow who she was. I passed underneath a bench that held three giants and found a smaller seat next to a young gnome.

As a quartet of singers began to hum a sweet little melody, the audience turned en masse to face the back of the room. Will and Emma stood hand in hand, beaming at their guests. Will was dressed in a wool vest (it seemed to me an odd choice, but I knew little of giant fashion trends) and had applied a liberal amount of oils to tame the curls on his head. Emma looked radiant, covered in hundreds of yards of white lace that flowed to her feet and skimmed the ground. She ducked her head demurely under the gauze of her veil and I wondered how a woman who stood as tall as a house could look like a baby deer.

The bride held a burlap sack in her hands, and the groom a hoe. As they made their way down the aisle, William dug a trench in the ground, and Emma sprinkled seeds into it from her sack. Then they retraced their steps and knelt in the dirt, working together to cover the seeds with the loose earth. I cringed for Emma's dress, but when she stood, it was miraculously spotless. They went to the start of the aisle once more, this time holding a watering can between them and sprinkling the ground as they proceeded to the front of the room. When they reached the front, the crowd burst into cheers and joyful tears. They exclaimed how beautiful the bride was, and how charming the groom, and how happy they would be always, and how they would have many healthy children. Emma and Will merely grinned at the assembled group and waited for the noise to die down before continuing the ceremony.

As I watched the rest of the ceremony, a pantomime of their anticipated lives together from the wedding day to their deaths, I marveled at the sweetness and simplicity of it. It seemed so out of reach for someone like me. I thought back to Tina and Michael, who held each other close, and danced and laughed together by the light of the fire, and again wondered if I could ever experience those things. I slumped a little in my seat as Emma and William clasped hands and circled the room slowly, my heart aching at the impossibility of ever holding hands with someone I loved. Blaine's face flashed in my mind's eye, and I shook my head slightly to ward off unhelpful thoughts. It would do no good to think of such things.

William and Emma lay down beside each other on the ground and closed their eyes, signifying their deaths. Then they sprang to their feet, and the guests erupted into whistles and screeches. Everyone descended upon them, and in the midst of the chaos, I spotted Mother just yards away from me. I ducked my head and scrambled out of the barn, jogging to a hole in the wall a ways from the entrance and reentering there. Giants were quickly moving the furniture about and setting up tables and tables of food. I helped myself to three peas the size of apples and a cheese puff as big as my head from one of the lower tables and teetered my way over to a section of the room designated for smaller guests such as I. I peered through the sea of legs and people, trying to keep an eye on Mother and hoping to somehow find Terri, though I didn't know what she looked like and couldn't even be sure she was present. I noted with bemusement that William and Emma seemed to have disappeared from the festivities.

I was just finishing my first bite of cheese puff when an amused, nasally voice reached my ears.

"Terri, you are absolutely ridiculous." I froze, my spine stiffening and my heart suddenly in my throat. The voice was right behind me. I waited for what seemed like an eternity for a response.

"Oh, April," a delicate, simpering voice tsked in reply, "You've had too much Elfin wine again."

"I don't know…" I turned slowly as a doubtful male voice joined in their conversation, gripping the sides of my seat as though I would fly away if I let go, "they didn't look very happy…"

The light, wispy voice turned sharp. "Well, no one asked you, Howard. As usual."

"Be nice," the first voice slurred. "What did you do to them, anyway?"

"She-"

As Terri interrupted her male companion, I finally laid eyes on her. She was beautiful, of course, perfectly willing to use magic to lend a dewy softness to her skin, a honeyed glow to her golden hair, a sparkle to her luminous, sky-blue eyes. I was struck by her alarming ability to look both soft and sweet and absolutely vicious at the same time. I sat there gaping at her, struck immobile and speechless by this chance encounter. The little squirrel stirred within the pocket inside my coat.

"I didn't _do_ anything to them," Terri told her friends innocently, eyes wide and blinking rapidly, "It is their _wedding_. I gave them a wedding present. You know, I give, and I give, and I give, and nobody seems to appreciate the things I do for them!"

Terri's companions, undoubtedly faeries as well, considering the nonchalant way they addressed her, held none of her splendor. April was petite and pretty, but the lines on her face belied her true age. Howard was a strange looking man with a bulbous nose and pouting lips. He had darker skin, closer to that of Mercedes. April snorted at Terri's whining and took a sloppy gulp out of her goblet.

"Of course, of course. Well then, what _present_ did you give them?"

"Well," Terri sniffed, wiping a stray tear away from her rosy cheek, "the groom, William, actually reminded me of someone I used to know."

"Ahhh, here we go," April nodded in understanding and offered her goblet to Terri, who accepted it and took a dainty sip before continuing.

"Yes, he reminded me of a lover of mine." Her face darkened, but it did not take away from her beauty. "My lover left me quite suddenly and I was heartbroken. So," she paused significantly. April leaned forward, reaching for her goblet again and spilling some wine as she took it back.

At the silence, Howard tried again. "So, she-"

"So!" Terri's voice rose slightly and she fixed Howard with a deadly look. "So," she continued on, her voice once again deceptively airy and sweet, "I gave the bride and groom a wonderful gift. They will never leave one another. For their whole lives, they shall never part." She clasped her hands to her chest, her eyes now dewy with emotion.

I dropped the pea in my hands in shock.

Howard looked down and shook his head silently. April stared at Terri and then downed the rest of her drink in one gulp. "That's a terrible gift!" she bellowed, slapping the table with her free hand, "No wonder the bride was sobbing!"

"She was just overcome with gratitude and joy!" Terri insisted. "They will never be without one another! What could be more romantic?"

April rolled her eyes. "Romantic. Terri, you need to think before you do things. They'll hate each other within the next fortnight! What will happen when they argue? They won't even be able to go to separate rooms to calm themselves and think things through."

"They won't argue! They're so in love…"

"What if he hums whenever he's concentrating on something and she doesn't like it? What if she likes to scrub every surface available when she's anxious and he can't stand it? Terri, they'll never get a break from one another! They'll drive each other mad." As drunk as April seemed to be, she made an excellent point, which she punctuated with a wobbly jab into Terri's arm.

"But my gift has nothing to do with humming or cleaning," Terri answered with a dismissive wave of her hand, "My gift is about love. It is all they need, and they have so much of it, and will always share it, because they will never part."

"You come visit them in a year," April insisted belligerently, "and then you'll see what love is!"

"All the giants are going to elope, from now on," Howard mumbled. Terri ignored him.

"Fine! I will! I'll return in a year and then you'll see – what are you gawking at? I mean you, boy!" Terri whirled around to glare right at me.

My breath caught in my throat. I gawked stupidly at the faerie who had cursed me, unable to say a word. I noticed vaguely that the squirrel was shaking within the confines of my coat; perhaps Terri's suddenly loud voice had scared it.

"He's probably another receiver of one of your 'gifts,'" Howard said morosely, eying me with pity, "Please don't turn this one into some sort of animal, Terri. You can't know that they lead peaceful, contented lives."

"Shut up, Howard!" Terri snapped, her eyes still fixed on me as I stood there, willing my mouth to start working.

"Why don't you answer me, little boy?" She hissed at me impatiently. "Answer me!"

The order prompted me to speak, but I wanted to be cautious. I spoke to her in Ayorthian, the language of Mercedes's people. Hours spent learning from both Mercedes and Language Mistress had made me quite fluent.

"I am sorry, Lady. I do not understand Kyrrian."

Terri's expression softened and her voice became simpering and sweet once more. "There, there, precious. I asked you why you were staring at me."

I opted for the easiest explanation, and the one most likely to curry her favor. "You are so beautiful."

"How darling! What is your name?"

"K-Christopher."

"Well, sweet Christopher, beauty is not important. The only thing that matters is love. Do you understand me?" Terri's eyes grew misty at her proclamation. I fought not to roll mine.

"Yes, Lady. I apologize for staring."

"There's no need to be sorry, Christopher. You did nothing wrong. You couldn't help yourself," Terri preened, effectively contradicting her previous words, "And you may call me Terri. My friends don't wish for you to know this, but I am a faerie."

"Truly? That is why you are so stunning."

"Yes," Terri confirmed, not bothering at this point to hide her arrogance, "and my friends -"

"Are shop keepers!" April cut in loudly, suddenly, stumbling in a little circle as she came forward and pinched my nose. "Honk! Just shopkeepers, little boy; nothing more, nothing less! We sell…" she paused, a leering grin spreading across her face, and tried to focus her gaze on my face.

"Sheets," Howard mumbled, "Sheets and…things."

"Wait!" April screeched out, now staring at my chest, "what's moving around in your jacket?"

The squirrel was now trembling violently. "Oh, it's just my squirrel. I found it during my travels. But I wanted to-"

"A squirrel, eh?" April fixed me with a beady stare before sliding her eyes over to Terri, who looked mildly intrigued as well. "Let's see it!"

"Oh no," I heard Howard mutter.

Filled with inexplicable foreboding, I heeded April's order and pulled the poor thing out from my pocket. It scrambled desperately in my hands, squeaking in pain and fear. Terri moved April out of the way and bent to peer closely at it.

"Oh my!" She let out a tinkling laugh. "I recognize you! Has it been three years already?" She paused. "Four years! Well, I suppose it's time."

I looked at her in bewilderment as she slid a delicate wand from her sleeves and pointed it at the squirrel.

"What are you-?"

But suddenly, there was a large mass in my hands, and it startled me so much that I dropped it, though its weight would have prevented me from holding it much longer in any case.

I stared down at the sight before me. In place of the little squirrel Blaine and I had rescued lay a boy with floppy brown hair, his face contorted with pain and covered with sweat, and his leg bent at an awkward angle. I quickly recovered from my shock and averted my eyes from his naked form, shrugging out of my coat and laying it over him to preserve his modesty.

Terri smiled down at the terrified boy. "Hello again, Arthur."

**A cliffy of sorts! So we've finally met Terri…what do you think of her? Does everybody recognize April (pretty easy) and Howard (maybe a little more obscure) from the show? Who do you think Arthur is?**

**Next Chapter: Kurt presents his request to Terri and is quite pleased with the result. He also learns more about Arthur, returns home, and gains a romantic prospect.**


	13. Chapter 13: A Gift From Terri

**AN: Once again, sorry for the long wait! There's some fun stuff coming up that I've very excited to write, so hopefully the next few parts will be out much quicker! Thank you for all the lovely reviews 3 Yes, Terri's friends are April Rhodes and Howard Bamboo (on the show, he's Terri's assistant at Sheets n Things). Read on to find out more about Arthur!**

I stared down at the shaking boy who used to be my squirrel and bit my tongue so I wouldn't forget myself and speak in Kyrrian. Arthur, Terri had called him. His eyes were squeezed shut and he had clasped my jacket around himself with trembling fingers. His pale, sallow skin was coated in a sheen of sweat. One leg lay bent at a strange angle, but the other seemed to have no life at all. He was mumbling and gasping incoherently, but I could detect a Kyrrian accent to his sounds.

Terri had lowered herself gracefully to kneel by Arthur's head, and she cooed a little while she stroked his soaked bangs off of his forehead. Howard and April seemed angry that Terri had put on such a fantastic display of magic in front of so many non-faerie folk and chided her for it.

"Terri, you fool!" April hissed, still wobbling a little as she moved to block Arthur from the views of the intrigued wedding guests nearby, "Must you be so arrogant?"

"We're lucky the party is in full swing, and not that many people noticed," Howard worried as he cast his gaze around our immediate vicinity.

Arthur finally opened his eyes but seemed to need to squint before he recognized anything. His focus fell on Terri and he cringed away from her. Terri narrowed her eyes at his reaction with a huff, but they quickly widened as she glanced at me, and then back down to Arthur. A shrewd, suspicious look settled on her face.

"Lad," she addressed me in Ayorthian, "You speak Ayorthian, but you resemble the coloring and general looks of a young boy from Kyrria, like Arthur."

I was surprised that it had taken her this long to realize that I didn't really look like Mercedes, like an Ayorthian. Luckily, I had my excuse prepared. I just hoped it was prepared enough.

"I was orphaned as a baby while my parents were traveling. I was adopted by an Ayorthian family; Ayorthian life and language is all I know."

I waited with bated breath, praying she wouldn't begin testing my knowledge of Ayorthian culture and politics. I had learned enough from Mercedes to stumble my way through, but as flighty as Terri seemed to be, I could tell she could be quite clever if she had a mind to be. There would be no fooling her.

Terri beamed at me, her voice once again soft and sweet. "Oh, isn't that beautiful!" I wasn't sure what was beautiful about my being an orphan, but I breathed a quiet sigh of relief anyways. Terri turned to Arthur again, switching to Kyrrian. "You see, Arthur? Other people have hardships as well. You needn't feel so alone and despise your life so!" Arthur just shook his head feebly and tried to curl away from her.

"E-excuse me, Terri," I tried to keep my tone meek and worshipful, "But what has happened? Was this boy my squirrel all along?"

"Yes, he was, my dear child. I gave him the gift of the simple and carefree life of a squirrel for three years. I must have lost track of time, so the lucky boy had four instead of three!" She saw my concerned glance down at the boy. "Oh, you needn't be worried. I think he's just a little shocked and adjusting back to his human body."

Terri patted Arthur on the head affectionately, but then stood and stepped over him, closer to me, leaving him groaning on the floor.

"Now, child, I believe you were trying to say something before April so rudely interrupted us?"

I forced myself to wrench my gaze away from the pitiful boy lying on the ground and remembered the reason I had sought out Terri in the first place. Now I felt even less sure than ever. I wondered what reason Terri had for turning Arthur into a squirrel and knew I had to tread carefully so she didn't bestow the same fate upon me.

"Lady Terri, since you are a faerie, I wonder if I might please beg for your help."

Behind Terri, April snorted and rolled her eyes. Howard stared at me with wide eyes and shook his head back and forth. Their reactions added to my apprehension, but I had no choice. I hadn't a clue of how to break the spell myself. My only option was to seek Terri's aid.

Terri's eyes lit up and she beamed at me. "You see, April," she said in a triumphant yet simpering tone, "the humans do want my help." Her gaze never left my face. "Of course, sweet Christopher, what is it that I can assist you with?"

I phrased my request carefully, hoping to give nothing away. "I need more courage and conviction, Lady, if it so pleases you. Whatever anyone orders me to do, I do, whether I wish to or not. I've always been like this, but I don't wish to be."

Behind Terri, April's eyes widened and she cackled with glee. "You see! This lad is afflicted with obedience! Isn't that one of your gifts, you fool? And he doesn't like it!" I resisted the urge to glare at the drunken faerie. The last thing I wanted was an angry Terri on my hands.

But Terri did not seem upset. She smiled sweetly at me. "This explains why you are such a lovely child. Obedience is a wonderful gift, Christopher. I certainly wouldn't wish to take that from you. Be glad of your admirable disposition."

"But –"

Terri's order suddenly took hold of me, and I made no effort to resist it. Why should I? It felt so amazing to obey! What a blessing this was! Tears of joy sprang to my eyes and I grasped Terri's hands, kissing them over and over.

"Thank you, Lady Terri! Thank you!" I was trembling with happiness.

"Oh, you sweet thing. There's no need to thank me! Someone simply needed to show you how to view your gift in the proper light."

"What about the other boy?" Howard piped up timidly.

"Oh!" Terri started, "Right. Well, Arthur," she spoke to my squirrel-turned-boy in Kyrrian, "why are you being so lazy? Stand up!"

He finally spoke, his voice nasally and raspy, probably from disuse. "I can't," he answered through gritted teeth, "My one leg is broken, and the other doesn't work at all. You know that."

I had to admire his tenacity for speaking to Terri in such a manner, but I supposed living as a squirrel for four years had rid him of any inclination towards timidity.

"Well," Terri tsked in annoyance, "That simply won't do. We can't leave you laying here, a spectacle, ruining the party."

With a wave of her wand, she conjured up a small wooden wagon. Big magic. I knew Carol would disapprove but I watched with awe anyway. She also conjured a simple pair of breeches and a clean, white tunic. "Christopher, help him up into the clothes and then onto the wagon, there's a good boy."

I rushed forward, so happy to have another order to obey. I found each moment without a command quite difficult, found myself yearning for someone to tell me what to do so that I might have the joy of obeying them. I hastened to keep my eyes carefully averted as I helped Arthur into his clothes. I had grown quite attached to him in his squirrel form, and certainly hoped to avoid his rejection now that he was human.

"Christopher will look after you," Terri informed Arthur, who sent a scared look my way. I would have smiled at him reassuringly, but I was trying to pretend I didn't understand their conversation.

"But-but he doesn't speak Kyrrian! And I don't speak any Ayorthian! How will that work?"

Terri had tucked her wand back into her sleeve and was examining her nails. "You'll just have to make do, won't you? My friends and I really must be leaving; we have another engagement to get to." She turned to me. "Now Christopher, please take good care of Arthur. Both of his legs are useless right now, so you must look after him until the broken one heals and he can hobble around as he used to."

I beamed at the instructions and bent over to kiss her hand again, murmuring my thanks over and over. She laughed, the sound soft and musical. "Now take him and run along, Christopher."

I was delighted to. Without another word, I gripped the handle of the wagon and began to pull it as fast as I could towards the nearest exit.

On a logical level, I understood that my joy was false; I was only happy because I had been ordered to be. I still understood why I had hated the gift. But it was all-consuming, and each order that I obeyed had me feeling full of light. I imagined obeying commands in the future, awful, grisly, terrible ones, and positively glowed at the thought. I decided to find Mother. If anyone were to give me casual orders, it would be her. I pulled Arthur behind me in the wagon along the outside of the barn, panting from the exertion. I could hear the wagon jostling over the uneven ground and Arthur's whimpers of pain.

"Slow down!" He called out desperately in Kyrrian. Though I was eager to find Mother, I was glad to heed his order. I slowed to a more leisurely pace, and turned to smile at him. He was gaping at me.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes," I replied in Kyrrian, "I was only speaking Ayorthian to fool the faerie."

"Smart," he observed.

"Thank you," I said simply, well aware that my plan had been successful, at least on that level. I longed to tell Arthur of my gift so that he could order me about, but I still derived satisfaction from listening to Father's old command to never tell a soul. I distracted myself with his story. "So you are named Arthur?"

"Artie," he amended, nodding.

"Why did she turn you into a squirrel? If you don't mind my asking."

Artie sighed. "When I was younger, I went into the village with my mother one day, and there was an accident. I ran out into the street. I think I was chasing a butterfly or something; I do not really remember. I was so little, and the carriage driver didn't see me until it was too late. He ran me over, and I lost all feeling and use of this leg," He patted his right leg, which hung limply outside of the small wagon; "I eventually learned how to move about with only one working leg. My father built me a special walking stick to help. But it was awful. All of the other servant children made fun of me, and the children of the manor were especially cruel. They liked to push me down and steal my walking stick. I had eye glasses, too, and they liked to take those, as well."

"That's awful," I said quietly.

"When I was…twelve, I think. It's kind of hard to remember. Well, Terri appeared. She was just suddenly…there. My parents were so happy to find out she was a faerie and wanted to help me. But she said that she wanted to give me a simple life, free from the cruelty of humans. We just wanted her to fix my leg. She said she would give me three years in this comfortable new life, and then turn me back. My parents begged her not to, but that idiot turned me into a squirrel! Of all the things to do!" Artie broke off angrily, shaking his head. I nodded in sympathy. I knew, on a rational level, that Terri was a fool of a faerie, dangerous and impulsive, but I would be forever grateful to her for giving me my gift of obedience.

"Don't worry," I told him, "You can stay at our manor until we can find your parents." Artie managed a weak smile, looking very miserable, indeed.

We met Mother at the gates of William and Emma's farm. I called out to her as she started to step into her carriage, and she turned to face me in shock. She didn't seem angry to see me out of Dalton's; she actually grinned when her eyes found me.

"Porcelain!"

"I ran away from Dalton's," I told her, not caring if the confession upset her.

She barked out a laugh. "I knew you had gumption. I guess there's some Lady Susan Sylvester in you, after all. Except you don't have my impeccable bone structure. And are you still a mouthy little brat, or have they transformed you into a proper young gentleman?"

"How shall I show you?"

"Demonstrate your finest bow."

I swept into one gracefully, thrilling at the order. Hopefully, it would be the first of many.

Mother noticed Artie. "And who is your lazy friend?"

"This is Arthur," I told her, wishing she had demanded the answer from me instead, "And he is not lazy. His leg is broken, and the other is lame. I befriended him on my travels and hope to bring him home with us."

Mother pursed her lips and fixed Artie with a beady stare. He was trying to squint back at her, but I could tell he needed another set of eye glasses.

"Well, Porcelain, as touching as I find it that you've managed to find friends just as odd as you, the cripple isn't coming with us. What use is he to me?"

"P-please," Artie choked out, "I'm willing to work. I have no place else to go."

"That is not really my problem, Gimpy," Mother replied as she turned towards our carriage.

I followed after her. "Mother, Arthur is my friend. Please do this as a favor to me."

She turned and faced me with a calculating look. "Well, quid pro quo, Porcelain; what do you have for me?"

"Anything," I said eagerly, clasping my hands together and bouncing on the balls of my feet, "Only tell me what to do and I will obey you." I cheered silently. I could both save Artie and satisfy my thirst to obey more orders.

Mother stared at me for a moment, before a triumphant smirk spread across her face. "Outstanding. You are appealing enough, I suppose. Stupid of me not to have thought of you before. Get your friend into the carriage, Porcelain. We'll leave straight away."

"Shouldn't we bid farewell to Emma and William?" I asked as I wheeled Artie forward.

"That greaseball and his ginger bush baby wife? They're too busy sobbing over some gift a faerie gave them. It is a pity…I heard three faeries were at this wedding, and I saw no sign of them."

Once the carriage driver and I had lifted Artie inside and we had all settled in, we began to move. Artie soon fell asleep, and Mother finally addressed me.

"You are just in time to put your deportment training to good use."

"Just tell me what I must do."

Mother remained silent for a good while. I began to fall asleep.

"I am bankrupt."

Her words jerked me awake. "Excuse me?"

"I sold an estate I don't own to some very crafty trolls, and they've found me out. When we return to Frell, they'll be waiting there for me, and I'll have to pay them. We will be left penniless, and I'll have to sell the manor, all our furniture, even this carriage. And, Porcelain, I shall have to sell even you."

"What do you mean?"

"You must marry so that we can be wealthy once again."

She meant so that she could be wealthy again. Though I understood how horrible this was, I could not have cared less at the moment; my entire being thrilled at the command. "Yes, Mother. I will do it gladly. When?"

"You ask when and not to whom? Are you so anxious to wed that it matters not who your wife will be?"

"I am not anxious to wed, Mother. Only to do your bidding."

Mother stared at me in shock. "What did they do to you at Dalton's? It is no wonder you ran away."

**AN: Well, Kurt is really screwed this time, isn't he? Poor guy can't catch a break. **

**Yes, as most of you guessed, Arthur is Artie! LOL how did he get in this story?**

**Next chapter: Kurt meet's his bride-to-be, Sue's got some tricks up her sleeves, and a marriage proposal is made.**


	14. Chapter 14: Magic Mushrooms

**AN: Hi guys! Thanks for the reviews! Enjoy the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ella Enchanted or Glee.**

Once we reached our manor, I nearly forgot about Artie in my haste to see Carol. I rushed inside while Mother spoke to our driver, pulling Artie along in the wagon.

Carol was cutting up vegetables in the kitchen, and she had a bright yellow parrot settled on her shoulder. I threw myself into her arms and she squeezed me so tight that I gasped for breath once she had released me. The parrot squawked, "Careful of the feathers!" in Gnomic and flew to settle on the back of a chair.

"Oh Kurt, sweetie, I'm so happy!" Tears streamed down both our faces. "But who is this?" Carol asked, smiling at Artie with a little nod, which he returned with a hesitant wave.

"This is my friend Artie. He's the victim of a faerie's spell," I explained, shooting Carol a meaningful look. She raised her eyebrows in response. "His leg is lame and the other is broken, and he needs eye glasses."

"Well, I'm sure we'll be able to sort you out a little," Carol assured Artie, "My name is Carol; I'm the cook here at the Hummel manor."

After we set Artie up with a room in the servants' sleeping quarters and asked Shannon to look after his needs, Carol and I rushed back to the kitchen to celebrate our reunion privately.

"I missed you so much," I murmured, pressed into her soft chest.

Carol petted the hair on my head. "I missed you too, lovey. I'm so glad you are home. Your mother never should have sent you to that school in the first place."

I hummed in reply and nestled closer to her. The desire for a new order had quieted for the moment; such was my joy in seeing Carol again.

Eventually we pulled apart and fell into our easy rhythm, chatting and gossiping while I helped her prepare the rest of the vegetables. She introduced me to the parrot, Pavarotti, who ruffled his feathers importantly when I greeted him in Gnomic.

"Carol," I spoke hesitantly after a while, "Do you think you could heal Artie's legs?"

Carol frowned sadly. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I can't. That's big magic."

"What is the point of being magic if you cannot do anything magical?" I huffed. Carol just looked at me apologetically. "I'm sorry," I sighed, "I know. Even still, I thought I would ask."

Mother appeared at the door suddenly.

"Carol," she nodded her head slightly in acknowledgment, "Tomorrow we shall be having an important guest for dinner. I've ordered Elfin mushrooms for the occasion. They're a delicacy, so I want them well prepared and delicious."

"Who is this guest?" Carol asked me once Mother had left.

"My wife-to-be, possibly," I sang, "Oh Carol! I'm so glad!"

Carol gaped at me, dropping the knife in her hands. It fell a ways but then rose back into her hand as if of its own accord.

"Your…your what?"

Pavarotti squawked out a word in Gnomic, roughly translated to "Oh dear!"

"My wife. Mother is bankrupt, so I must marry so she can comfort herself with a new source of wealth."

Carol's eyes were stormy and bright. "She's gone too far this time! What is she thinking, marrying off a young boy like you? And you! What are you so happy about? It's not as though you wish to marry a woman!"

"No, not for that," I agreed eagerly, "I'm just so ecstatic to do whatever Mother tells me to!"

She gripped my chin and narrowed her eyes, staring straight into my face. "What's happened to you, Kurt?"

"I found Terri, Carol. And she made me be happy to be obedient."

I watched as all the color drained out of Carol's face. She looked more ghost than faerie. "Oh, no. No, lovey, no! She didn't do that to you…" She pulled me close and buried her face in my hair. I could feel her body shaking as she cried.

"Don't be upset," I soothed, rubbing circles on her back, "I don't feel cursed anymore. I can be happy now. See, if you listened to me, you wouldn't be upset anymore."

"Kurt," Carol's voice was thick with tears, "Despite the curse, you were never an obedient or submissive creature. Now she's turned you into a marionette on strings. How can I not be upset?"

I held her close until the last of her tears fell. She pulled back and cradled my face in her hands, staring at me with a thoughtful, frustrated expression.

"I see Terri has some new tricks up her sleeves," she observed regretfully, before giving me a watery smile. "You must be hungry. Shall we make dinner?"

"Only tell me what I must do," I agreed eagerly.

But she didn't. From that moment on, bossy Carol never issued another order. She didn't speak of my new found love of obeying, but it must have prompted her to stop giving me instructions. I supposed she did this out of spite for Terri, but she shouldn't have bothered. There was no way for Terri to know of Carol's reaction, and I was deprived of many a command to happily obey.

* * *

><p>The next morning, while Carol, Shannon, Artie and I shared a breakfast of fresh croissants and blueberries, a boy delivered the special mushrooms Mother had ordered. Carol read the label on the package aloud,<p>

"Vyte Amyndi." Vyte meant mushrooms, but I had never heard the word Amyndi before.

"Do you know what it means?" I asked curiously.

"No…" Carol trailed off, frowning.

It wasn't until later, while we were preparing dinner, that she asked me to look up the word in my faerie book. I flipped it open to a random page and found the A section of a dictionary.

"'Amyndi (ah-min-DEE), noun, justice, evenhandedness,'" I read, "'Vyte Amyndi, justice mushrooms; prompt feelings of affection and love in those who ingest them; traditionally used in elfin courts to resolve civil disputes.'"

"I'll throttle her!" Carol hissed, pounding a mallet on a cutlet of chicken rather violently.

"I don't care," I told her.

"Well, I do!" She grabbed a bowl of regular mushrooms to replace the Vyte Amyndi and started slicing them.

"Maybe I should eat the special ones," I suggested.

"Love, you are already under enough magical influence as it is. I do not want you under yet another spell, even if it doesn't matter to you."

I shrugged my shoulders, thinking ahead to tonight's dinner. I would be glad to wed my wife, because Mother ordered it, but I knew I would likely be unhappy afterwards. I didn't want to be married to a woman for the rest of my life and to do…things with her that Finn and Puck had regularly spoken of in far too explicit detail. Moreover, what kind of companion would my wife make? Perhaps she would be stupid, or mean, or both. I doubted Mother took these kinds of considerations in mind when choosing my bride-to-be. Only her happiness mattered to her, not mine. I contented myself with the idea of persuading Carol to order me to be happy in my marriage. I suspected she would not deny me such a thing if I could make her see how miserable I would be otherwise.

Just as Carol had finished slicing the innocent mushrooms, Mother strode into the kitchen. She eyed Carol's sliced mushrooms, and then the unopened package of Vyte Amyndi. Her face twisted into an angry scowl.

"Carol, you must use the elfin mushrooms. If you let them go to waste, I'll sneak into your room at night and shove the rotting fungi down your throat. Understood?"

"Yes, my Lady," Carol said, dropping into a quick curtsy. All three of us were well aware of the resentment simmering just underneath Carol's cool, controlled exterior. Mother smiled nastily. Carol got a fierce look in her eyes.

"Lady Susan –"

"I told her not to use them," I interrupted, not wanting Carol to be punished.

Mother turned and sneered at me. "Well, Porcelain, I didn't send you to deportment school to be a cook's helper or to contradict me. Now go get ready for dinner and try to pick out something in your wardrobe that does not make me want to choke to death on my own bile."

I rushed up the stairs to my room, happy for the first time in my life to have someone else dictate my clothing choices.

An hour later, I met my prospective wife. She was pleasantly plump and pretty enough, though old enough to be my mother. Her name was Kendra, Duchess of Del Monaco, and aunt to Quinn, the object of Finn's pursuit at Dalton, or so Mother told me beforehand. The very same aunt that Quinn had hoped would never remarry, as she stood to inherit her estate when she died. I would have smirked at the poetic justice, but then the duchess opened her mouth. I barely suppressed a cringe at her whiny, petulant tone.

"And is this he?" She inquired to Mother, striding closer and looking me up and down. I shivered under her invasive gaze.

"This is my son, Kurt." I bowed and the duchess curtsied, while still looking me over with pursed lips.

"He's pretty delicate," she said appraisingly, "I am not sure if he could provide me with any sons." My lip curled at both her attitude and the idea of making a child with her.

Mother slapped me on the back. "He's stronger than he looks. He comes from Sylvester stock, so I am sure he will prove excellent at conceiving a child. Kurt, show the duchess some of your combat training."

Just as I was about to angrily insist that I not be regarded as chattel, the need to obey hit me and I eagerly complied with Mother's instructions. I went through a simple training exercise, every moment of fulfilling Mother's order felt like bliss. I closed my eyes and it was if I was dancing. Though I couldn't see, I could still feel their eyes on me, and contended myself with pretending I sensed Blaine's admiring gaze instead.

I finished with another bow. Kendra simply hummed at my performance, while Mother offered a critique: "I'm bored."

To my relief, Shannon announced dinner. As we made our way to the dining hall, Mother shoved me in Kendra's direction, so I offered her my arm. She accepted it without a word, her long, pink fingernails digging into the flesh of my forearm like talons.

The elfin mushrooms were to be our first course.

"My cook found these in the market today," Mother lied to the duchess, "They are harvested by elves and supposed to be quite delicious. I wished to serve such a delicacy to you, Lady Kendra, though I detest fungi myself. Try some, Kurt."

I readily complied, though I found the mushrooms to be bland, but for the saffron cream sauce Carol had drizzled over them.

"I apologize, Susan," Kendra replied, "but it is common knowledge that mushrooms cause ginger babies, and there's no way I want to pop out a bunch of carrot tops."

Normally, I would have snapped a derisive comment at her rudeness and ignorance, but the mushrooms had started to take effect. I tittered out a laugh instead.

"What is so amusing?" Kendra snapped out.

"You're ever so clever," I breathed out in response, looking at her fondly.

Kendra looked startled, as though no one had ever remarked on her clearly high intelligence and eloquent way with words. How odd.

"Thank you," she replied. How had I ever considered her voice annoying? It was lovely; a lilting cadence that was like heaven to my ears. I smiled at her shyly.

As we made our way through the second course (a garden green salad with roasted almonds and asiago cheese), I became more and more enamored of the duchess. It was odd. I felt no desire to kiss her, but felt I would do anything if it made her happy. I found myself growing rather fond of Mother, as well. By the time Shannon had come to collect our plates, I was referring to the duchess as "darling Kendra" in my mind. I could not stop beaming at her across the table. When Shannon appeared with the beef stew, I jumped up, eager to serve Kendra the dish myself. I saw Mother hide an amused smile behind her hand.

It appeared that my doting and flattery were enough to charm the duchess on their own, no elfin mushrooms necessary. "Your son is quite eager to please," she observed to Mother, "I like that."

I preened at her praise. Mother frowned but quickly covered it up. Apparently, she could stomach a son with no back bone if it meant she got her hands on some money quickly.

"I had no idea he had turned out to be such good material for a husband," Mother continued to lie through her teeth, "I'll need to marry him off quickly, or spend my days beating infatuated young maidens off with a stick."

Very clever, Mother. It was very much her style to play on Kendra's insecurities as an older woman. I wanted to assure her that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, but I felt too bashful.

After dinner, we retired to Father's study. I brought my chair as close as I could to Kendra's and picked up a vest I was embroidering. I endeavored to make my stitches as tiny and uniform as possible, eagerly telling Kendra that if she so desired, I could make her any gown she wanted.

Kendra and Mother were discussing King Andrew's crusade against the increasing number of ogre attacks in Kyrria. Mother believed the knights needed to be more aggressive and cutthroat with the ogres, while Kendra argued that the king's men were spending too much time away from their wives, whom they should be looking after and protecting more closely. I couldn't concentrate on my sewing; I kept nodding my head whenever Kendra or Mother made a point, though they were arguing different positions on the matter.

The room felt stifling and far too hot, so I suggested we open a window. "I would hate for our guest to be uncomfortable," I told Mother.

"I have never seen Kurt so accommodating," Mother remarked while I pried open a window. "He seems quite taken with you."

"I am," I cooed quietly.

"Pardon me, son?"

"I am," I declared, suddenly feeling quite bold. I smiled at Kendra beatifically. She smiled back, which I took as encouragement. "I am very taken with her, Mother!"

Kendra leaned closer to me. "I've been to Hummel manor a few times in the last few months, lad, but I've never seen you before."

"He was away at deportment school," Mother informed her importantly, "Dalton's Academy."

"It was a waste of time," I offered, "If it delayed my meeting the lovely duchess."

"I have a niece that attended that school," Kendra said, "Her name is Quinn. She was quite popular. Were you friends?"

I didn't want to lie, but nor did I want Kendra thinking poorly of me. "Though we were in the same year, we had different groups of friends." She needn't know of Quinn's disdain for me, or how she and her friend Santana used to tease me about my preference for boys and high voice.

Kendra frowned. "You are the same age as Quinn? I thought you were older, around eighteen. I thought you just looked exceptionally young for your age, like an eleven year old milk maid."

"I will be sixteen within the next month," I told her quickly.

Kendra drew away from me. "You are still a child!"

I began to panic. I was desperate to keep hold of Kendra's favor. "I am not that young," I protested, "Father was just 17 when he and Mother were wed!"

Kendra laughed, and clinked her goblet against Mother's. "To the eagerness of young men everywhere. Nothing pleases me more." She stared at me over the rim of her cup.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

><p>When Carol came to hug me good night, I gushed about the duchess. I recounted every word, every glance, every passing touch we had shared.<p>

"Isn't she incredible?"

"Oh she sounds incredible, alright," Carol replied as she snuffed out my candle, "An incredible idiot. It figures your mother would select such a woman to marry you."

"But they are both wonderful," I argued fervently.

"Oh yes, simply wonderful!" Carol was almost snarling as she slammed my door shut behind her.

As I lay awake, waiting to fall asleep, I imagined a dozen different scenarios in which I rescued Kendra from a pack of ogres, serenaded her by the light of the moon, dueled dozens of men for her hand, dressed her in the finest of gowns…but as my eyelids slid shut, the last image in my mind was of Blaine when we had clasped hands before I left him and his men. His curls had come free of the oils he tamed them with and fell, glossy and dark, on his brow. His hazel eyes shone with affection, and the grip of his hand told me he regretted my departure.

I slept in late the next morning and woke up feeling groggy from the Vyte Amyndi. I wandered down to the kitchen and slumped into a chair, feeling very queasy. Carol set a fresh cinnamon roll in front of me.

"I can't," I mumbled, resting my head in my hands.

"You should eat it, honey," Carol urged me. I rolled my eyes at her insistence of phrasing it as a request instead of an order. "I've mixed in some herbs that will help ease the after effects of the mushrooms."

That was all the encouragement I needed.

"I've been wondering, Kurt," Carol said gently as I took a delicate bite, "What happened when Terri gave you this new gift? Can you think back? Was it a new spell, or simply an order?"

"It was an order," I replied, not really considering what she was asking, "She told me to be happy to be obedient."

"I see." Carol let out a long sigh, and then held my face in her hands. "Don't feel happy about your curse, love. Feel however you really feel."

I was elated to obey – but I wasn't! The effects of Carol's instructions hit me full force. I choked on my own breath and held my own sides tightly, doubled over from the intensity of a variety of emotions. Carol held me as I wept in relief and misery. Once I had recovered from the sheer barrage of feeling, I remembered the mushrooms. I jerked out of Carol's embrace and stood up, my eyes now smarting with angry tears.

"How dare she?" I hissed. I felt impotent with rage, remembering the past night's events. My fawning over that insipid woman, Mother's manipulation, the way both of them had appraised me like a piece of meat. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself before turning to face Carol with a stony expression.

Carol was gazing at me with trepidation. "Kurt? How are you feeling?"

I gripped my hands in front of me, they were trembling so much. "Thank you for undoing that fool faerie's command, Carol," I said quietly. I sat back down, the effects of the elfin mushrooms rushing back as my overwhelming feelings abated.

Carol picked up an envelope from the counter with my name on it. "Lovey, I hate to add to your current distress, but your mother left you a letter. I think it would be a wise for me to read it over first, in case it contains any orders."

I nodded my agreement tiredly. I finished my roll and drank a tall glass of milk as she read over the letter.

"It's safe," she said, handing it to me with a small, crooked smile.

_Porcelain,_

_You did well last night. I am convinced that you had that dithering idiot completely infatuated with you. Unfortunately, the lying money-grubber has a penchant for gambling and is not nearly as rich as she needs to be to keep our family in good spirits and health. She confessed as much to me this morning._

Poor, unfortunate Quinn. It looked as though her inheritance would be lost either way.

_I do not have the time or, if I am being honest, the care to find you a new bride on such short notice. We must act quickly if we are to stay in the lifestyle to which we are accustomed. I will find you a wealthy heiress at some point. Susan Sylvester does not know the word failure._

_For now, however, I shall be the one to take a knife in the side for both our sakes._

_I have recently received a proposition of marriage from a well-to-do gentleman. I have not yet given my consent to the arrangement, but I will tell him that my heart belongs to him in the next letter I write. Once our engagement is official, I will send for you so that you may become reacquainted._

I paused and shut my eyes. Reacquainted? Perhaps some part of me knew what was coming next, because I felt my chest fill with dread.

_Be sure to keep our financial situation a secret from him and his family, although I'm sure the only reason Sir Sandy desires this marriage is because I am irresistible and a champion._

_I shall see you soon,_

_Your Mother_

Mother was to wed Sir Sandy. Dave would be my brother.

**AN: So, some good news, and some...unfortunate news. Oh Kurt. It's never easy, is it?**

**Okay, so if you can figure out what Vyte Amyndi is in reference to from the show, congratulations: You have discovered just how gigantic of a dork I am.**

**Next: Wedding bells are ringing! The momentous occasion of the unholy union of Sue and Sandy (WHAT EVEN) is bound to attract some important guests...perhaps even some royalty?**


	15. Chapter 15: Wedding Bells

**AN: Hey guys, thanks for the reviews. The mushrooms from last chapter were in reference to Vitamin D, or decongestant, that all the gleeks got high on in the first season. Also, in case you don't recognize her, Kendra is Terri's yappy sister from the show.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ella Enchanted or Glee.**

* * *

><p>Mother and Sir Sandy were officially engaged that very evening, and I joined them at Sir Sandy's estate two days later. When I arrived, he threw his arms around me in a suffocating embrace.<p>

"Ohhh this is simply marvelous! Kurt, Sir Sandy sounds so formal for your new father –" I fixed with him with the most withering of stares. The anniversary of Father's death was fast approaching, and I wanted to slap Sir Sandy for suggesting that he could replace my beloved father. "You should call me something much more familiar…" He trailed off, oblivious to my glare. "I know! Something with flare. You may call me…Pink Dagger! I do so love pink!"

I looked at him with bewilderment and loathing. "There is no chance that I will at any point refer to you by that name," I informed him icily.

He pouted. "Very well. Then you must call me Papa Sandy."

My mouth twisted in disgust. I hated to follow the order, but Papa Sandy he would be, at least when I spoke aloud.

The wedding was to take place in two months. Mother had wanted it sooner, surely because she didn't want to risk the secret of our financial ruin to become known to Sir Sandy. Sir Sandy wanted a lavish wedding, one that would take ample preparation and would attract only the most important and esteemed of guests. Mother had nodded her agreement at this last sentiment, a power-mad gleam in her eyes.

Finn and Dave were to return from Dalton's a week before the wedding, and they were each bringing a female companion. Finn was now exclusively courting Quinn, and Sir Sandy informed me that Quinn's dark-haired friend Santana had rather aggressively demanded that Dave court her. "And then the boys shall stay home with us," Sir Sandy told me, though he raised his voice for Mother, who stood gazing at a set of his silver candlesticks appraisingly, to hear, "For who shall offer me comfort and solace to ease my pain when your mother is away on her trading ventures?"

I saw Mother purse her lips in distaste and shut her eyes briefly. I knew she was willing herself to say something suitable in response. "And who shall ease my pain when I am parted from you, dear Sandy?" She asked, keeping her eyes on the candlesticks.

Her words certainly seemed to please Sir Sandy. He let out a little affected sigh of infatuation and scurried over to her, clinging to her arm and pecking her cheek. Mother's eyes met mine for a moment and I didn't bother to suppress my smirk. If she was going to put me through the torture of gaining this family, then I would not pity her suffering such a husband one bit.

Unfortunately, Sir Sandy had taken a liking to me. I tried to avoid him as much as possible, but he often found out my hiding places and insisted on showing me around his manor. His collection of china dolls (I counted over one hundred) was quite disturbing, though, as Mother later told me, they were worth a fortune.

My birthday came and went with no acknowledgement or celebration, though Carol and Shannon both sent me letters. It appeared that Mother either did not remember or simply did not care enough to mention it, and no one else at Sir Sandy's manor knew about my turning sixteen.

With the anniversary of Father's death just days away, I ended up throwing myself into assisting with the wedding preparations. I reasoned that if the fools insisted on a spectacle to draw attention to their impending sham of a marriage, I could at least try to make the occasion a little less mortifying for all involved. My involvement turned out to be quite fortuitous the more I learned of Sir Sandy's plans for the celebration.

Most importantly, I was able to convince the idiot that Finn, Dave, and I should not in fact wear chartreuse for our groom's attendant's outfits, even if it was one of the colors of the wedding scheme.

"Think about it, Papa Sandy," I spoke with a honeyed voice, "The day belongs to you and Mother. It stands to reason that nothing should draw attention from the two of you. If you dress us boys in such eye catching ensembles, there is a chance that not everyone will be focused on you."

Sir Sandy looked aghast. "Kurt, how could I have not thought of this? Of course you are right," he yelped, patting my hand absently enthusiastically, "You and my precious boys will wear black. I am certain you will all look quite handsome, if understated beside my radiance."

For her part, Mother completely ignored Sir Sandy's color scheme and chose a shiny white dress with long sleeves, a wide collar, and blue stripes down the sides. I helped a young maid of Sir Sandy's household named Brittany make the dress.

"I think you should tell Lady Susan," she began one afternoon as we worked on the hem of the skirt, "that Lord Tubbington won't be able to attend the wedding."

I frowned at her. "Who is Lord Tubbington? I've never heard of him before, and I don't think he is on the guest list."

"Lord Tubbington is kind of shy. But he far outranks both Sir Sandy and Lady Susan in nobility. I'm sure they would be honored if he could attend, but he told me to send his regrets."

"Brittany, how could you possibly know a high-ranking noble? Haven't you worked in Papa Sandy's household all your life?"

"Yes, but Lord Tubbington lives here, too."

I paused and stared at her. Brittany looked back at me with her typical sweet, if slightly vacant expression.

"Brittany, who is Lord Tubbington?"

"Oh Kurt," she smiled prettily, "Lord Tubbington is my cat. He found out about the wedding because he was reading my diary again."

"Your…we've been talking about your cat coming to my mother's wedding?"

"Kurt," Brittany said, as though speaking to a child, "I just told you that he said he couldn't make it. Honestly, I think he got a hold of one of the menus for the banquet and did not like what he saw. There isn't enough cheese. Lord Tubbington loves cheese."

I stared at her for a moment, trying to determine whether or not she was trying to make a fool of me. "Brittany, do you speak to many people about Lord Tubbington?"

"No. He is very shy, so I don't want to embarrass him. He doesn't mind when I talk to the centaurs Sir Sandy keeps; they understand him better."

"Well, perhaps it's best if you keep it that way. If you need to tell someone about Lord Tubbington, it is best if you come to me. I'll always understand, just like the centaurs."

Brittany giggled. "You're amazing!"

I quirked an eyebrow at her proclamation and bent over Mother's dress to make a stitch.

"I want to kiss you."

My eyes widened in shock at this and I jerked my head up to look at Brittany. I prayed she would not demand that I kiss her, for while she was a pretty and sweet (if slightly odd) girl, I certainly did not want her lips pressed against mine. And after what Dave had done to me, I did not relish the idea of another unwanted kiss.

Brittany was smiling at me, waiting for a response. "Brittany, that is very…flattering. And you are a beautiful maiden, but I simply…" She blinked at me as I struggled to find the words. "I simply do not think of you…in that way."

Her lip quirked a little, and suddenly, for a girl who seemed quite touched in the head, it was as though she could see right through me. Her smile widened and she reached up to pet my hair, which I tolerated for the sake of the moment. "I understand," She replied, looking straight into my eyes, "You like boys, don't you?"

I stared at her, stunned. It was not particularly shocking for someone to find me out; I reasoned that if Dave could deduce it, anyone could, but she said it so calmly, as though she did not object to the notion of a boy being drawn to other boys.

"I…"

"Kurt, you needn't trouble yourself," She said softly, "I see nothing wrong with it. In fact, I like boys and girls."

"I did not think it was possible for one person to like both."

"Well, I know I do, so I guess it must be."

Never had I anticipated a day when Brittany would impress me with her flawless reasoning.

* * *

><p>The anniversary of Father's death passed without mention. Mother and I exchanged a significant look that day and she certainly seemed even surlier than usual, but no speeches were made, and no songs were sung in honor of his memory. I avoided everyone in Sir Sandy's manor that day, even Brittany, and had wandered about outside, wishing to visit Father's grave but taking comfort in the gentle wind that I felt, like a reassuring caress from his hand.<p>

The following day, I set out to return home after a conversation with Mother.

"Porcelain," she had barked at me as I made my way to the kitchens to visit Brittany, "Wait for a moment. I want to talk to you when my precious fiancé can't hear us."

I rolled my eyes but obeyed her order.

"I want you to go back to our manor. Sandy wished to have the wedding there, but I've appealed to his sentimental sensibilities and told him it would be much more romantic at the old castle. Nonetheless, I've made the arrangements with Carol, and I need you there to help her clear out and sell all our things. I know you've some Sylvester blood in you, so get the best prices you can. After the wedding night" – she shuddered – "We will all be coming back here. Sir Sandy expects that we'll be staying at our home, but by the day of the wedding, it will no longer be ours, and an empty manor will be a very obvious clue as to my financial state. That is why it is essential for you to go back; I can't handle the selling of our things from here and risk Sandy finding out before the marriage contract is binding."

I shook my head at her machinations but gladly heeded her request. Once I arrived home, Carol and I embraced readily. She seemed to be quite frazzled.

"Oh, I've missed you, sweet. I've a lot to fill you in on." She slipped her arm through mine and pulled me along inside the house. Much progress on the hawking of the objects of my entire life had been made. "Shannon has returned to her family and secured a position closer to her home. You Mother refused to write a reference, of course, so I…so I forged on in her writing magically," Carol looked at me and smiled wryly, "Small magic. I managed to locate Artie's parents and their lord sent a carriage for him. He left just two days ago, and thank goodness, for yesterday I received a letter from your Mother demanding that I turn him out into the streets because he was costing too much money to feed. I would have done no such thing, but at least this way I can avoid her wrath. Now, as for the household items, I've managed to pack everything up. I stowed away most of your father's old outfits; he had some very fine items I am sure you will one day like to wear, once you've grown a little more. I also saved most of your own wardrobe. I only need you to help me sell everything else off before the wedding. Now, is there anything else you'd like to save?"

"Only the faerie rug, my book, and my gift from Tina and Michael," I said firmly, "and I shall hide those fastidiously. It would not do well for Dave or Papa Sandy to discover them."

Carol wrinkled her nose. "Papa Sandy?"

"An order, unfortunately," I explained with a long-suffering sigh.

In the midst of our task, I did not have much opportunity to venture outside. On one outing, I visited Father's grave with Carol at my side. I sat by his headstone, tracing his name with my fingers over and over. Carol was crying silently. I could not look at her; the sight of the tears on her face was too much for me.

I did on one occasion manage to sneak away and visit Apple, the centaur colt Blaine had captured for me that now lived at the menagerie by the old castle. I was glad Mother had never learned of his existence, for she would have sold him for quite a price. I brought Pavarotti along to visit his fellow birds. Samuel greeted us with a smile, his golden hair longer and shaggier than ever, and took Pavarotti from me so I could go to the centaurs. As I walked away, I could hear him speaking to the bird in Elfin.

There were three centaurs in the pen, and Apple was easy enough to spot, based on the illustration of him and Blaine in my faerie tale book. I clicked my tongue softly and held out an apple. He turned his head to look at me and trotted forward eagerly once he spied his namesake in my hand, a vapid smile on his face and his white hair shining in the sunlight.

I found myself spilling all my secrets, my feelings and frustrations, to the sweet but simple creature in front of me. He said nothing, naturally, but stared at me as though enraptured as he munched on his snack. I told him of Dave, not of the kiss as Dave's order stopped me, of his cruelty and self-loathing, and how he had forced me to sever ties with my best friends. As I vented my anger and pain, I gradually started to talk of happier things. I recounted my meeting Michael and Tina, how I had rescued Artie, and my friendship with Brittany. Soon enough, I was pouring out my soul to Apple about Blaine.

"Of course, you've met him. You know him better than you know me at this point," I babbled as I combed his long hair with my fingers, "You know how…wonderful he is, I'm sure. How kind, and gentle, and warm. How…handsome." I flushed and darted a glance at the centaur. He stared at me as though he was hanging on every word, his bright blue eyes wide with attention. "I am honored to have him as a friend. I know that my feelings for him run deeper than that, but I am content…I am ecstatic, even, to simply remain his friend. But I long to tell him…to tell him of my uncommon inclinations towards boys. He is such a caring and earnest fellow; I feel as though I can tell him. But what if he rejects me? I could not bear that." Apple simply nuzzled against my cheek, and I drew courage and strength from his comfort. "I suppose I should tell him. I want to be honest. And if he truly is my friend, like Rachel and Mercedes, or Brittany, he will certainly accept this about me," I concluded, trying to feel the confidence with which I spoke the words.

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><p>Mother and Sir Sandy arrived early the morning of the wedding, with quite the entourage in tow. Brittany was one of the servants in attendance. She wiggled her fingers at me before dashing off to help finish the last minute decorating. I longed to go join her and Carol and escape my horrid family members, both new and old.<p>

Sir Sandy swept me into a suffocating and rotting fruit-scented embrace. I watched over his shoulder as Finn stumbled out of the carriage and held up a hand to help Quinn down the steps. She held her nose high in the air, but she looked tired and a little sad. I had never seen anything but icy coldness on her face. I wondered if Finn noticed, but he just smiled at her awkwardly before waving at me. Santana came out next, and instead of fixing me with one of her infamously nasty glares, which I had grown quite used to during our days at Dalton's she gave me an appraising look before pursing her lips and examining her nails.

Dave was the last to emerge from the carriage, and he actually greeted me aloud.

"Kurt!" He said, smiling as though happy to see me. I took a step back as he came forward, arms wide as if intent on hugging me, no doubt to whisper an order in my ear. I froze as he wrapped his arms around me, his bulk far too close to my body for comfort. I fought to keep down the bile rising in my throat as images of our last encounter flashed before my eyes.

"If you say one word to me today, I swear I will reveal that you are like me," I hissed.

He drew back a little. "What? But –"

"One word," I repeated firmly. I watched with satisfaction as his eyes widened in alarm and he shifted his gaze to Santana, who was staring at us with a frown on her face. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief once he had released me. I felt my knees tremble at the queasy feeling in my stomach that his close proximity produced.

I visited Apple once more and then spent the rest of the day helping Carol prepare the food for the banquet. The afternoon passed with regrettable haste, and soon Carol was ushering me out of the kitchens. I was glad when she did not instruct me to attend the wedding.

Almost all the guests had made their way inside to await the bride and groom, though a few still lingered outside the doors. Finn was one of them. I tried to duck away once I saw him, but to no avail.

"Kurt, wait!"

I sighed and stood rooted on the spot.

"Are you not going to go watch the ceremony?" He asked as he came to stand beside me. "Can I stay out here with you? Quinn is confusing me so much lately; it's as though I can do nothing to make her happy. She is so sad all the time and it makes me sad, too. Can I talk to you about her? Can I talk to you about Rachel? My head is all messed up."

I eyed Finn wearily. I did not wish to hear of him stringing along my friend, nor did I wish to hear about his courtship troubles with Quinn. "I'm going in," I told him. He followed after me like an overgrown puppy.

"Can I sit with you?"

We slipped into a row at the back. Luckily, it was not customary for the wedding attendants to stand at the bride and groom's sides during the ceremony in Kyrria, so my duties to the wedding were limited to preparation.

High Chancellor Figgins began to drone on and on, and it wasn't long before I realized he was reusing several phrases from the speech he had made at Father's funeral. Before long, I felt a weight on my shoulder and looked down to see Finn slumped at a very awkward angle, eyes closed, head resting on my shoulder, snoring. A few rows ahead, I could see Santana examining her fingernails. Quinn's shoulders were slumped and she stared at her lap, unmoving. Dave wore a blank expression; his gaze was fixed blankly on Mother and Sir Sandy, who stood on the elevated steps at the front of the room, hands clasped. Mother looked as though she were in physical pain, but Sir Sandy seemed none the wiser, and beamed at all the people collected in one space to witness the abomination taking place. He was wearing a ridiculous maroon and forest green ensemble that clashed with itself, never mind what it looked like next to Mother's blue and white dress. The whole affair was utterly ridiculous.

As the ceremony wore on, it was quite obvious that absolutely no one had any interest in what was happening. This only made the one viewer whose wet eyes focused on the exchange of vows with rapt attention stand out to me more. There sat Terri, clutching her hands to her heart as though she had never witnessed anything more romantic in her life.

Panic set in and I slid down in my pew. Finn, still asleep, simply moved with me, snuggling a little closer. I would have been annoyed, but his tall frame served to hide me a little, so I welcomed the unwitting shield.

Once High Chancellor Figgins had concluded the ceremony, Terri jumped up and strode toward the altar.

"My friends," she cried out, "I have never been more touched than I am today by what I just now paid witness to."

High Chancellor Figgins beamed and said, "Achievement!" He raised his fist in success.

"Not because of your boring monologue," Terri told him snippily, "But because of the love of this couple," she addressed the whole room once again, "Who are no longer in the bloom of their youth."

"Lady, I am going to punch you in the face," Mother growled.

Terri seemed to ignore her. "I am Lady Terri, a faerie, and I am here to bestow upon you a magical gift."

Mother's demeanor changed in an instant, and that greedy glint appeared in her eyes. Sir Sandy clapped his hands together in delight.

Terri paused, perhaps for dramatic effect. I knew I should have been slipping out of the room so she would not see me and discover I was in fact Kyrrian and had deceived her; I had no wish to become a squirrel. Yet, I stayed rooted to my seat, unable to tear my eyes from the inevitable disaster.

"It is the perfect gift for a newly married couple. Lovely. No one shall call this gift stupid!" Terri's jaw set in defiance. "I give you the gift of eternal love. As long as you both live, you will have one another's undying love."

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><p><strong>AN: So I lied. No "royals" just yet. I had to split the chapter up; it was getting too long. But get ready for all the "royalty" you can handle next chapter, which shall be up later tonight, I promise. Hold onto your hats, because it's gonna be pretty adorable.<strong>

**On another note: LOL Sue and Sandy, cursed to be in love forever!**


	16. Chapter 16: Hiding Places

**AN: In this chapter, Kurt literally hides from Terri and his insufferable new family. But in the process, he discovers that others may be hiding things much like he is.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Ella Enchanted.**

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><p>I watched as all the color drained from Mother's face. Sir Sandy let out a fawning squeal, "Oh! My beautiful Susie! What a wondrous gift!"<p>

Mother's look of absolute horror shifted into one of complete infatuation in a matter of seconds as the spell took hold. "Whatever makes you happy, my love," she replied, a look of confusion and dawning wonder in her eyes. I almost gagged.

Quinn, Santana, and Dave were all rushing the altar with hungry looks in their eyes, perhaps looking for gifts from Terri as well. The fools. "A real faerie!" Quinn exclaimed, looking truly animated for the first time since her arrival.

I took the growing distraction as an opportunity to duck out of the hall. It would not serve me well if Terri spotted me.

It had grown dark outside and the brisk night air made it a little too cold to hide outside. I decided to explore the second level of the old castle. I made my way down the dark corridor that stretched out from the staircase landing, running my hand along the wall to keep a sense of balance and orientation. My fingers skimmed across a doorknob, so I pulled the door open and slipped inside, letting the door click shut behind me. I slid to the floor, uncaring of the cheap material Sir Sandy had chosen for the groom's attendants' outfits. I breathed slowly, letting my heart gradually return to a normal pace, and thought about the repercussions of Terri's newest gift. I wondered if Mother would be any happier now.

I must have been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I did not hear the footsteps looming closer. The door suddenly swung open and, caught unawares, I tipped backwards a little, my back falling against pair of legs. I looked up.

"Blaine!" I exclaimed, attempting to stand gracefully. He offered me a hand up, grinning. Then he pulled me into a hug, laughing good-naturedly. I stuttered out a breath as he wrapped his arms around my waist and hesitated only for a moment before returning the embrace. This was a very welcome hug, unlike Dave's and I felt myself relax against my friend a little, drawing comfort from the slender, yet strong frame pressed to mine.

When he pulled away, he didn't let go; instead, he gripped my arm and ushered me into the room, closing the door shut behind us. My eyes were still adjusting to the new darkness, so it was hard to make out Blaine's face, but his eyes were shining in what little light the cracked windows of the room afforded.

"Are you well, Kurt?"

"As well as can be expected," I replied wryly.

"I arrived just in time to see you dash up the stairs. It seems that I've missed the ceremony," he observed with a tinge of amusement, "Was it quite exceptional as the rumors at court predicted?"

"Exceptional. There is a word for it!"

I could see a little more clearly know, and his smile turned into a frown. "I apologize, Kurt. I shouldn't jest at what I'm sure is an unwanted union on your part. I know you do not get along well with Sir Sandy's sons."

"It is quite alright," I assured him, amused at his perfect manners. "It does do well to keep a sense of humor about things one cannot change," I added airily.

I was about to ask Blaine how he was doing and when he had arrived, for I hadn't seen him in the hall during the wedding ceremony, but I heard rather loud giggling coming from the corridor outside. Blaine glanced at me mischievously and then darted back to the door, opening it a crack. We crowded its opening and peered outside, just in time to see a pair of bodies rush past us. Blaine opened the door a little more and we stuck our heads out to watch the two people run past.

It was Santana, stumbling a little in her bright red dress, clinging onto the hand of…Brittany? As they continued to run down the hall, Brittany ducked under Santana's arm and did a little twirl. The two of them giggled madly and disappeared around the corner, and Blaine and I stepped into the corridor for a moment.

"That was Miss Santana Lopez," Blaine observed quietly, "but I did not recognize the other maiden."

I hesitated. It was very odd to see a maiden such as Santana, from a wealthy and noble family, rushing off into dark corners of the old castle with a scullery maid. And given what Brittany had told me about liking girls and boys, my mind was racing with the possibilities of what such an encounter might mean.

"Her name is Brittany," I finally informed Blaine, "She is a maid of the Ryerson household."

I looked at him closely, curious to see how he, a royal prince, would react to a member of court cavorting about with a servant at the wedding of two nobles. He didn't say anything, but continued to look down the hall where the girls had disappeared, a tiny smile playing on the corner of his mouth. It occurred to me that I was once again staring at Blaine's lips, so I moved my gaze accordingly.

"What do you think they were doing?" I asked thoughtlessly.

Blaine slid his gaze to mine and for a moment I forgot to breathe. Perhaps it was simply the low lighting, but Blaine's normally light hazel eyes were quite dark, dark with…some meaning, some knowing I could not determine. I felt incredibly flustered and hoped the darkness hid the stain on my cheeks.

But suddenly he was smiling, all white teeth and sparkling eyes. "It matters not." He placed his hands on my shoulders and steered me back into the room. "Now, I believe you were hiding? I suppose you would like to continue doing so?"

I waited for him to ask me why I was hiding or whom from, but he didn't. I certainly was not going to offer the information, and I supposed he was too polite to pry.

"Your ogre-hunting adventures did not last as long as I'd imagined they would," I observed as I shut the door once more behind us.

"Yes. Your hunting technique certainly helped speed along our efforts."

I smirked at him. "And did you find yourself a skilled speaker of Ogrese?"

Blaine shook his head with a rueful smile. "Alas, no. My ineptitude with languages remains as you remember it. Wesley was the most fluent, and Jeffrey had by far the best accent. Nearly as good as yours. But not quite," he said, winking.

"You chose a good room, Kurt," Blaine commented. I raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. "My father spent his boyhood in this old castle, when it wasn't in ruins. Before my grandfather had the new castle near Westerville constructed. He told me of old rumors of a secret passage in the castle, and that it was in fact located in this very room."

"Did King Andrew ever find it?"

"No," Blaine chuckled, "This room was, once upon a time, my grandfather's private study, and Father was forbidden to enter. Of course, as a mischievous young boy, he tried several times. Needless to say, my grandfather's staff were vigilant."

"Where does the passage lead?"

"Father told me it is supposed to take one to a tunnel that passes under the moat."

"Would you like to look for it?" I asked.

"Do you want to?" He replied eagerly, looking so young, like an excited child, "Though you'll miss the ball."

"I'd like nothing better than to miss the ball. It can't be that difficult, if our search is limited to just this room."

At Blaine's happy smile, we began to search. Blaine inspected an empty bookcase, while I ran my hands along the brick walls. Many of the bricks were cracked and chipped. Several were missing. As we conducted our search, we came up with possible uses for the passage.

"To warn Frell of danger," Blaine said sincerely.

I thought of Terri. "To escape a bad-tempered faerie."

"To avoid a sound lashing."

"To escape an ostentatious wedding ball," I countered, biting on my lip in amusement.

"That was certainly it," Blaine agreed with false conviction, laughter in his voice.

I spotted a section of wall that looked more intact. None of the bricks were missing, and they seemed to be held together with a slightly different colored plaster. I was about to point it out to Blaine when he spoke.

"Kurt, did you see this?" he asked, striding towards the very patch of wall I had just noticed. We rushed to inspect it closely. "Do you think this is it?" Blaine sounded almost overwhelmed in his enthusiasm. I tried to hide my fond look, attempting to transform it into a mask of judgmental amusement.

"Blaine, did you know at times that you appear like an excitable puppy, rather than an elegant young prince?"

He turned to stare at me, stunned. For a moment, I worried that I had offended him, but he let out a laugh and rolled his eyes at me. "Well, I suppose you have deportment school to your advantage. Never have I seen such a transformation from a slightly clumsy boy to sophisticated young gentleman of court," he teased.

I gasped in mock outrage. "I'll never be a young gentleman of court," I vowed, only half-joking. I had a feeling I would never truly be welcome in what Mother deemed "civilized company."

Blaine simply looked at me for a long moment before returning his attention to the wall. I watched as his long, elegant fingers brushed over the bricks, finally stopping on one placed at chest height. "This one is different," he murmured. It was. Most of the other bricks were dull and worn away, but this one seemed to shine a little, if I focused my gaze on it.

"I wonder how it has lasted where its brothers have worn away," I breathed, suddenly sensing we were in the presence of something that required some reverence, "Perhaps it is faerie-made. Very old magic, if that is the case."

Blaine withdrew his hand as though burned, hesitated, and then ran his fingers over the brick again. He pulled at its edges, and pushed at it, to no avail. I reached forward curiously and my hand covered his. We stilled and looked at each other. Suddenly, I realized that the passage would not admit one person alone. The magic would not permit a single individual to make a selfish escape. Something flashed in Blaine's eyes, and I felt as though he had had the same revelation.

We seemed to breathe as one as we both applied pressure to the brick, the pads of my fingers pressing against Blaine's knuckles. Suddenly, I was trembling. I couldn't tell if it was from the discovery of the magic and the passage, or from Blaine, and how I seemed to be breathing him in. The brick moved under our hands and our gaze finally broke, our hands dropping away. Blaine's dangled at his side, while I crossed my arms to hold myself.

Following the single brick, the entire section of wall slid back a few inches. There was a slight pause, and then the whole thing eased slowly to the right, hiding behind the real wall and providing enough space for two people to pass through. Blaine and I exhaled at the same time, glanced at each other, and then laughed nervously.

"Shall we?" Blaine asked, nodding his head towards the opening.

I stared at the dark passage before us. "Blaine, is this a good idea? What if we become lost?"

Blaine smiled at me and took my hand.

"Courage, Kurt."

I smiled back.

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><p><strong>Yay Blaine is here! Not gonna lie, I've been wanting to get to this part, too. Oh, and a little bonus Brittana on the side ;)<strong>

**Next chapter: Kurt and Blaine go on an adventure. They have some fun, find some treasures, and make some discoveries.**


	17. Chapter 17: Secrets

**AN: Thanks all for the reviews. So I got the sense that you like seeing Kurt and Blaine together...who knew? ;) Well, there's more of that coming your way, riiiiigggghht now! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Ella Enchanted.**

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><p>Together, Blaine and I stepped past the threshold of the secret passage, but Blaine paused.<p>

"Courage, Blaine," I teased him, repeating his words to me mere seconds before.

"I have an idea," he said, ignoring my joking and pulling his hand from mine. I suddenly felt a little colder. I glanced down to where his hands had met. One held down the material of his doublet, while the other grasped the highest brass button and yanked it free.

I gasped and colored, both from his sacrilege for ruining such a fine article of clothing (he was wearing dark blue and red, the royal colors), and from the sight of the creamy material of the undergarment that peeked out.

"Blaine, what are you doing? That was a beautiful doublet!"

Blaine held up the button. "We have no pebbles, nor bread crumbs, like Hansel and Gretel, so my buttons will have to do. So we don't get lost." He nodded at the passage ahead of us, which seemed to lead both straight and to the right.

I mourned the loss of his doublet, but I conceded that it was a good idea. We took another step full into the passage and startled slightly when the wall of bricks slid back into place. The passage was suddenly very dimly lit. Perhaps it was more old faerie magic.

As we walked, Blaine placing buttons on the ground every so often, and I found myself glancing at him often. His hair had grown longer during his mission, and his beautiful, dark curls fell about his face. The last vestiges of boyhood had left him, and his face was more angular than the last time I had seen him.

I thought of a reason to explain my hiding away from the wedding. It was a silly joke, but I did like to make him laugh.

"I am sure you've guessed why I was hiding up here."

"No, I have no idea."

"I was avoiding temptation."

Blaine paused and turned to look at me, a smile playing on his lips. "And what was it that tempted you so?" I almost forgot the ending to my joke at the sound of his voice, suddenly deeper and quite alluring.

"I should have thought it was obvious," I managed to sound disdainful, "It was the temptation to slide down the banisters."

He laughed in delighted surprise, playing along. "And why were you sitting down?"

"So that I could better envision myself sliding down the banisters." Blaine laughed again, his eyes crinkling, and then sent me a sweet smile.

"You should have given into temptation," He told me, "I would have been there to catch you."

I blushed and looked away.

"My father and I used to do it all the time when I was a little boy, at Hummel manor," I informed him, hoping to deflect from my lack of witty reply.

"Oh, Kurt," I could hear the apology in his voice, "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have made light –"

"Don't be silly," I scoffed with a wave of my hand, "I was the one who did it first."

Just as we began to run out of buttons on Blaine's doublet, we happened upon what appeared to be a door that would lead out of the passage. Blaine looked puzzled.

"We haven't walked far enough to have passed the moat," He observed, "And Father said there was only one entrance. Should we see where it leads us?"

I took a breath and nodded, heart beating with excitement. I reached forward and gripped the ornate door handle and twisted. The door did not swing out or in, but like the first wall of bricks, slid to the side, opening to a new room. We stepped into it and looked around. It was rather unremarkable, worn down and shabby, just like the room we started off in.

Blaine strode the other door in the room, opened it, and peeked outside. As he came back in the room, he began to laugh.

"What is it?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Oh, I cannot wait to tell Father. To think of all those times he tried to get into Grandfather's study, when there was another entrance in his room all along!"

"This is King Andrew's room?" I asked, feeling quite strange to be standing in our monarch's private chambers.

"His old bedroom," Blaine corrected me as his chuckles died down, "from when he was a boy. He hasn't been in here for years and years."

King Andrew's old chambers had a modest balcony, and after Blaine insisted on testing its sturdiness, we stepped out into the night to gaze at the clear skies, littered with stars. I shivered a little from the cold, but took comfort in the sudden warmth of Blaine's arm against mine as he leaned against the rail.

"Would you like to return to the celebrations? Won't your family be wondering where you are?"

"Let them wonder," I said dismissively. I couldn't go back. What if Terri was still there? And I doubted my family would miss me. Finn would be too busy trying to entertain Quinn, and Mother and Sir Sandy would not care. In fact, Dave was the only one who could've possibly been curious as to my whereabouts, since Santana had disappeared with Brittany. "Unless you would like to go back," I added politely.

"No," Blaine replied, "I only came to see you…To make certain you had arrived home unharmed."

"Quite so. Sir Wesley was an excellent escort, despite his penchant for talking about being a judge and wielding a gavel instead of a sword, and the giants took good care of me. Have you been to a giant wedding before?"

"A few. And your Mother's wedding? How did it compare?"

I shrugged, not wanting to overwhelm him with my anger and frustration. "A faerie was in attendance and gave them a gift. She said they would love each other forever. What do you think of such a gift?"

Blaine shook his head. "I don't like the idea of being under a spell to love someone."

I thought of Mother's scheme to marry me to Kendra, or some other wealthy woman. I thought of my inclinations towards other men, and Rachel's story about her father's lover, the man she considered a third parent, and how those two men could never express their love through matrimony. "Some do not get to choose who they marry. Perhaps it is better if they are compelled to love."

Blaine turned his head and frowned at me. "Do you truly believe that? I don't."

I spoke bitterly, and without thought. "It doesn't matter for you. You can marry whomever you choose."

He was smirking now; I could see it in the dim light of the stars and moon. "And you cannot?"

I could have smacked my hand against my face at my own stupidity. I felt my cheeks heating up again. I had almost given away my curse! And if I was ever going to reveal to Blaine the direction my attraction leaned, I did not want it to slip out on accident, either. "I suppose it is too early to worry over such matters. We are both too young to marry, in any case."

Blaine's smirk was spreading into a cheeky smile. "Are we? I'm a year older than you."

"Fine. Then I am too young to marry," I declared loudly, tilting my chin, "And that fool faerie's gift was an abomination. It would be horrid to be forced to love someone."

"I concur. Love should never be dictated."

"Nothing should be dictated!" I snapped out, and then bit my lip. It was truly an idiotic remark to make towards a future king, but my mind had been on the wretch Terri and her life-ruining curse.

I noticed, however, that Blaine was nodding. "As little as possible," he agreed earnestly.

We stood in comfortable silence for a few moments. I had the sense that Blaine was letting me calm down. After a little while, I realized that he had begun humming very quietly, a soothing tune that I recognized, one about lovers escaping to a secret place that only they knew of.

Perhaps it was the calming effect his song had on me. Perhaps it was his willingness to stand by my side without saying a word after I had lost my temper. Perhaps it was simply the way he looked there in the moonlight: beautiful, and steady, and open.

"Blaine, there is…something I must tell you."

He said nothing, only turned bodily to face me, leaning his side against the rail and raised his brows in invitation. I could not mirror his movement; it felt too…exposed. I remained facing forward but turned my head and forced my eyes to meet his gaze in the low light. His eyes were dark, but still warm and comforting. I clutched my hands together and let out a shaky breath.

"I…I am attracted to men." I did not blurt it out, persay, but it rushed out on a breath, the confession sounding delicate and fragile, matching the fluttering of my stomach and lump in my throat.

Blaine's eyes widened just the slightest bit. He pressed his lips together for a moment, and then opened his mouth to speak.

"So am I."

"Wh-what?" I stuttered out, rearing back and away from him a little. As I fought off the shock, a wild thought hit me that this was the cruelest of pranks, and that somehow Dave was involved. But I dismissed it as soon as it came into my mind; I knew Blaine and his kind, honest nature far too well to believe he could be capable of such malevolence.

"I thought…I thought I was alone," I murmured after a minute, looking down. I thought of Dave, but after what he had done to me, how he had treated me, he did not count. My mind seemed jumbled, like it could not take what Blaine had said in properly. The information hovered on the surface without quite turning into knowledge.

Blaine let out a laughing sort of breath. "I did, too. I mean, I know there are others, but I've never met anyone. At least, not someone who was honest about it. Until you." He ducked his head to catch my eyes. "Now it seems only suiting that it would be you, Kurt Hummel, who would be brave enough to speak of it aloud."

I had no idea what to say to that. My ears were ringing, my hands still held tight together to keep from shaking, and I felt as though my entire body was burning. I was positive my face was bright pink, and felt glad once again for the darkness that bathed us. "Does anybody know? About…you."

"The Warblers know," Blaine replied, with a laugh and a shake of his head, "I'd wager Father chose those particular knights because of their progressive values and political leanings."

"Then, your father knows, too?"

Blaine nodded. "I told him when I was fourteen, not long after I'd come to the conclusion myself. He was quite displeased at first, mainly because I told him I would never marry a woman and thus could not produce an heir. He held galas and balls to find a girl for me to fall for, but it of course didn't work. Eventually he contented himself with the idea of my sister marrying and having children." Blaine paused and smiled fondly. "I don't think he is assuming too much there; all Abigail seems to have spoken of for the past two years is the handsome gentlemen of court, and her plans for a lavish wedding. Every time one of the young noble ladies has a baby, she scoops it up as quick as she can, and coos about how much she wants one of her own."

Blaine looked me in the eye. "Father still struggles sometimes, but I do think he means well. He is certainly more accepting than my grandfather would have been."

It felt odd to be learning of the views of these great men on my attraction to the same sex, but as I looked at Blaine, I reminded myself that to him, they were simply his family, people who should love and accept him whole-heartedly. I told him of Father's easy acceptance, hoping that the difference in our stories would not hurt him.

His eyes were shining a little when he said, "Your father was a great man. I regret that I was not better acquainted with him before his passing."

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling the tears come to my eyes. "He was a humble man, despite his ranking, but I know he would have appreciated your words."

"Does anyone else know?"

I pondered how to answer that. I thought of Carol, so loving and supportive, of Rachel and Mercedes's steadfast friendship, and of Brittany's naïve yet endearing views. Perhaps it was the state of my heart, feeling so raw and exposed, but I thought mostly of my experiences at deportment school.

"It quickly became general knowledge at Dalton's," I bit out, and now I could no longer hold the tears at bay, "I didn't trumpet the information to any who would listen, but nor did I deny the truth. It wasn't easy. Many were hostile, and they made my life quite…" – horrendous, terrifying, painful – "difficult."

Blaine touched my shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, Kurt. You deserved none of it, and I'm so glad you left."

We were silent for a moment as I wiped my tears. I could feel Blaine's steady gaze on me, and once I had calmed my nerves and my heart, I glanced in his direction. He smiled a little and then ducked his head, as though suddenly shy after all that we had revealed.

"Do you know," he said in a purposely cheery voice, "I think I spotted an old chest in the room. Would you like to see if Father left any incriminating items behind?"

He winked at me and I offered him a shaky smile in return.

"I can't say no to the possibility of blackmail fodder against the King of Frell!"

I clapped my hand over my mouth and looked at Blaine with wide eyes, scarcely believing that I had actually made such a joke, but Blaine just laughed and took my hand in his, leading me back into King Andrew's old bedroom.

The old chest stood discreetly in a nook of the room. After some effort (it had rusted shut), we managed to prize it open. We coughed as a cloud of dust flew into our faces, and I was once again glad I felt no attachment to my groom's attendant ensemble. Once it had cleared, Blaine pushed away some cobwebs. I pulled a few old garments out and let the material run through my hands, noting the texture regretfully. They had obviously once been fine pieces, but were now moth-eaten and falling apart.

"Kurt, look," Blaine breathed in awe, and my eyes slid to what he held in his hands. A beautiful pair of metallic black shoes, gleaming in the faint light, almost as if they were made of –

"Glass," Blaine whispered, tapping one with his fingernail. It made a clinking noise.

"How could anyone possibly wear glass shoes?" I asked skeptically, even as I gazed at the things with a burning lust that only a fashionable young man could feel.

"I don't know," Blaine said slowly as he looked at the shoes closely, "Perhaps…"

"Faerie-made," I murmured, unable to tear my eyes away.

Blaine did not seem as attached to them as I. "Here," he said, "try them on."

I sat on the edge of the chest, eying the shoes doubtfully. If they were made of glass, how were they to accommodate a foot? And they appeared far too short and wide for my long, narrow feet.

They fit perfectly.

I held my feet up in front of me, tilting my head and admiring the sheer beauty of the shoes. They seemed made to compliment any possible outfit.

"They are very nice," Blaine observed. I rolled my eyes at the understatement.

He offered me a hand. "Stand up."

I gripped the edge of the chest in an effort to fight the curse. "They'll break if I put too much weight on them."

"Perhaps not, if they are faerie-made."

I took a breath and stood. The shoes bent with me, conforming to my movements perfectly, as though they were made just for me. I had never worn a more comfortable or gorgeous pair of shoes. I looked up at Blaine in astonishment and let out a delighted laugh. He grinned back at me. I took a big step to the side and then twirled on the spot.

"The young gentleman should not dance alone, especially not in those shoes," Blaine spoke lightly but with a sparkle in his eye, extending his hand towards me, "May I have this dance?"

I heard the strains of the orchestra playing for the ball down below us.

"Why, yes," I answered grandly, placing my hand in his, "Yes, you may."

We drew close together, fumbling as we decided where to put our free hands. Blaine glanced up a little. "You've had a growth spurt," he noted with a grin, "we're the same height now!"

It took us a couple of dances to find our rhythm, as we were both used to leading. We decided to trade off, laughing as we traded roles over and over, moving in time to a smooth waltz, a lively branle, an athletic galliard. Blaine managed to make faces that were both silly and charming when we sang words to a song we recognized. He complimented me on my voice, calling it beautiful, and squeezed my hand to show his sincerity. It was the closest we had been since he caught me from my fall after rescuing Artie (whom I had not told him about; there would be no way of explaining it fully), and my heart pounded in my chest at the proximity. It felt safe and warm and scary and bewildering all at once.

As we danced, Blaine told me of his plans now that his ogre-hunting excursion was complete. He planned to leave again in two days to act as an ambassador in the court of Ayortha for a year.

"A year!" I knew it was customary for the future rulers of Ayortha and Kyrria to spend extended periods of time in each other's courts; it was a tactic that had promoted peace between the two kingdoms for three centuries.

He smiled at my disappointment. "I promise I will write to you, and you shall know all of my experiences. Will you write to me?"

I paused, biting my lip in amusement. "Of course. But I'm confident I will have few experiences to report, so the rest will be inventions of my mind, and it will be up to you to distinguish what is real and what is not."

The music changed into a spirited allemande, and soon I noticed that Blaine, who, as a royal was a highly trained dancer, was attempting increasingly complicated and difficult variations of the basic step. Blaine did not know that my training at Dalton's had left me a very unwillingly accomplished dancer, and soon his brow furrowed in concentration. I laughed at him.

"Are you attempting to make me falter in my dancing?" He grinned at me playfully. "I'll have you know, Blaine," I huffed a little in exertion as we executed a flawless jump, "that your efforts are pointless. I will not trip up, no matter what you do!"

"We shall see about that!" Blaine crowed, his eyes glinting at the challenge.

After another minute of perfect (if tiring) dancing that had us both panting, Blaine growled in frustration, the sound sending a shiver down my spine and causing that warm sensation in my belly.

"How is it that mere months at Dalton's have you at a level of accomplishment it took me my entire life to reach?" He exclaimed. "This is too much," he added, laughing, "You simply must make a mistake!"

Though I was aware that he had no idea of what his words would do, I glared at him just a little before my right foot found my left and caused me to trip. I tumbled to the ground, but at least I took Blaine with me, his hand around my waist tightening as though he were trying to stop my fall. We landed in a tangle of limbs, both laughing and trying to catch our breath. I moved out from underneath Blaine's warm body hastily, and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily and giggling. I hoped that my blush could be blamed on the exertion of the dance.

"Are you alright, Kurt?" Blaine asked between breaths, still giggling as well. He pulled himself into a sitting position beside me.

I took a couple gulps of air before answering. "I'm fine."

I reached up to push my sweaty bangs off my face, but suddenly, somehow, Blaine's fingers were there instead, smoothing my hair back gently. I let my hand drop into my lap. His eyes met mine as his fingers brushed against the tip of my ear, trailing behind it until his hand cupped my jaw. I could scarcely breathe for how close he seemed to be all of a sudden.

"Kurt," he said quietly, his voice deep and rough. The pad of his thumb grazed over my cheekbone. I could only stare with wide eyes, lost in the depth of his gaze, the scent of him, sweat and fresh rainwater, the gentle way his hand held my face. "Would you like to kiss?"

I licked my lips nervously. My hands found their way to my knees and held on tight. Blaine shuffled a little closer and raised his other hand to caress the other side of my face. As he drew closer, I could feel his warm breath, coming out in soft puffs, on my lips. His fingers tensed just slightly against my head.

Panic. A punishing grip. A wet, bruising mouth moving hungrily, possessively over mine. My own lips responding of their own accord as my stomach churns. Pressed against a thick, solid body far too intimately, a terrifying hardness digging into my stomach.

"Wait," I gasped, jerking my head back and hitting it against the wall behind me. I winced, and Blaine's hands fell away from where they had cradled my face.

"Kurt," Blaine said in alarm, "what's wrong?"

I fought to keep from shuddering as the memories slowly started to ebb away. I didn't want to hurt Blaine, so I managed to keep my tears at bay. I sucked in a deep breath and opened my eyes.

Blaine looked distraught; his expression was heavy with pain and remorse. "Kurt, I am so sorry! I never should have presumed –"

I shook my head slowly. "You didn't presume anything, Blaine. You asked me, and…and you stopped when I told you to. It's the furthest thing from presumption." I wanted to sob in frustration and disappointment in myself.

"Why – I mean, I do not need a reason, but, if you want, will you tell me…" Blaine trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck and looking uncomfortable and guilty.

I longed to tell him everything – at this point I felt as though I could confide anything in him – but Father's order, designed to protect me, and Dave's command, designed to silence me, kept me from telling Blaine about both the kiss and the curse. Looking at his pained expression, I knew I had to give him a reason.

I couldn't tell him the truth, but I could tell him a truth.

"Blaine, I feel as though you and I have become great friends. And I wouldn't want to put our friendship at risk by…_experimenting_ because we are the only two…_like us_ that we know." As soon as I said the words, I knew they were true. I knew how I felt about Blaine, but our friendship was the most important thing to me. I didn't want to toss it away because we were curious. I knew I would end up heartbroken in the end.

And I was sure that something was wrong with me, more wrong than ever before, because of what Dave had done. I had been so terrified, so repulsed, but at the time, I had assured myself that someone like Blaine would be nothing like Dave. Now this had happened, and I had been thrown into the past as soon as Blaine came close, flooded with horrid memories and unable to act on my own desires. Surely, I would be a disappointment to Blaine if that was my reaction to his touch.

Blaine was frowning. "Kurt, please –"

"The music has stopped," I babbled nervously, hoping to prevent him from accidentally issuing an order for me to kiss him. I hugged my chest. "I think the celebrations are coming to a close. We should go back."

I risked a glance at him. His eyes were kind, but there was something else there. Something I didn't understand, couldn't put a name to. He stood up from where he was kneeling and brushed off his trousers. I looked up at him as he offered a hand.

"If you are sure you're ready," he said, eyebrows raised, smiling slightly. I breathed a sigh of relief and took his hand.

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><p><strong>AN: I know, I know, I'm a mean ol tease! Don't hate me! Honestly, it wasn't the right time or the right circumstances for a kiss. Kurt's still recovering from what Dave did, and there are other factors, obviously, that complicate things. <strong>

**Oh these oblivious boys, dancing circles around each other (literally in this chapter, and figuratively!). FLIRT HARDER, I dare you.  
><strong>

**The song Blaine hums on the balcony to soothe Kurt is an allusion to Somewhere Only We Know.**

**Next chapter: More Klaine funtimes, Kurt struggles to deal with his new family and has a conversation with Brittany.**


	18. Chapter 18: Slide

**AN: Ahhh I'm sorry for the long wait! But I've found some inspiration (finally), so hopefully the next few chapters won't be so far away!**

**I noticed some of you were disappointed that Kurt and Blaine didn't kiss last chapter, but it really wasn't the right time. Kurt is still really hurting because of what Dave did, and he can't even tell anyone! And the whole curse thing certainly complicated things doesn't it? **

**Disclaimer: I own neither Ella Enchanted nor Glee.**

* * *

><p>We went back to the main hall and walked to look out the high, arching windows at the front of the old castle. Horse-drawn carriages were taking guests away. I narrowed my gaze, searching through the crowd until I spotted Finn. He and Quinn were engaged in harried conversation and sending furtive glances across the lawn. I followed the direction of their looks and saw Mother and Sir Sandy staring at each other with disturbingly besotted expressions. Terri stood with them, clasping her hands to her chest and positively glowing.<p>

"The faerie has not left yet," I informed Blaine, pointing in their direction, "she is standing with my mother."

Blaine glanced at the disgruntled expression on my face. "I can make her leave, if you like," he offered, "she would not want to make an enemy of a prince."

I raised an eyebrow. "I think you underestimate faeries, Blaine. One like that would care not about human royalty." I hardly thought Terri would be bothered by a prince-turned-squirrel. "Hopefully, her stay will not extend much further. Let's just watch."

As I stared down at the departing guests, Blaine moved a little closer to me. I felt the warm weight of his hand settle on my shoulder.

"Kurt, about what happened earlier…"

I knew he could feel my body tensing, my shoulders hunching_. Please don't accidentally order me to kiss you,_ I begged in my thoughts, _I don't want such a thing with you to be anything like it was with Dave._

"Are you well? I hope you are not upset or…I don't know, anxious. Because nothing has changed. Between you and I."

I felt the tension drain from me and I turned my head to look at him. We both knew something had changed, but that didn't mean our friendship needed to be compromised. I gave him a little smile, meeting his kind eyes.

"I'm fine." I leaned forward a little, and Blaine understood, opening his arms so that I could embrace him. I buried my face in the crook of his neck as his arms wound around me. To my surprise, I felt myself sag against him slightly. The trials of the wedding, my time as a willing puppet, Mother drugging me and almost marrying me off to that truly horrid woman, the fresh memories of Dave's actions…it all had me feeling so very tired. It felt wonderful to hold Blaine and be held in his arms, feeling the sturdiness of his chest, the firmness of his broad, long-fingered hand stretched wide between my shoulder blades, his other arm wrapped around my waist, tugging me closer. I blushed, fisting my hands in the rich material of his jacket, and then pulled away.

"And thank you, Blaine. For being so understanding."

He frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but a growing silvery light from the window distracted us both. Terri was rising up into the air, emitting a sparkling, silvery glow. She hovered above the gawking wedding guests, and I spotted Carol glaring up at the foolish faerie. She looked mad enough to spit.

"I've never seen anything like this," Blaine whispered in awe, his eyes transfixed on the beautiful picture Terri had created.

"That would be because most faeries aren't so arrogant and stupid as to make such an ostentatious display," I snapped, watching as Terri smiled down at her audience, and then disappeared, leaving behind the faintest traces of glitter and glowing silver light.

"Well, she's finally gone," I said, sighing with relief. I suddenly heard footsteps behind us and spun around in the fading light. Blaine turned as well, and we found ourselves facing two figures approaching us cautiously. It was Brittany and Santana, coming back from their tryst. Santana's eyes were wide and alarmed, but Brittany just smiled at me.

"Hi, Kurt!" She chirped, moving to adjust the collar of her rumpled dress.

"Hello, Brittany," I smiled at her before smirking in Santana's direction, "did you have a nice time at the wedding, Lady Santana?"

Santana had recovered from her initial shock and a mask of sneering indifference settled on her features. She ignored my question. "Your Highness," she greeted Blaine with a purr, sweeping into a curtsy. Brittany followed suit, executing such an elegant curtsy that for a moment I forgot she was a servant. Many of the ladies at Dalton had never achieved such easy grace, even after months of practice.

"Ladies," Blaine returned the greeting with a bow and a grin. Brittany blushed at being addressed so formally and smoothed the pleats of her maid's uniform. I glanced fondly at Blaine; how like him to treat every subject, no matter what their station, with honor.

Santana's eyes were glittering and they darted back and forth between Blaine and I.

"Would you like help with your hair, Santana? It seems to be in quite the disarray," I said innocently, hoping to distract her from whatever was going on in that clever mind of hers. She glared hard at me but her face softened indulgently for a moment as Brittany took her hand.

"Isn't her hair pretty?" Brittany exclaimed, "I can tell that birds braid it every morning."

"Brit," Santana said softly, her eyes flitting to Blaine as she tried to pull her hand free.

I watched Blaine carefully. His eyes moved from Brittany to Santana, down to their joined hands. "Is that so?" he asked, directing his question to Brittany, "Which birds are the best braiders?"

"Canaries, Your Highness!" Brittany beamed at him, but also spoke as if he was a little slow, "Canaries, of course. They have tiny little feet and beaks, perfect for tricky braids. They would do my hair in the mornings, but Lord Tubbington scares them away. He's always awfully hungry when he first wakes. And even more grumpy than usual, since I took away his tobacco pipe."

Blaine's brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "Who is Lord Tubbington? I've never heard of him, and I know of all the nobles in Kyrria."

Santana's eyes widened and I hastened to speak before Brittany gave her answer. "Brittany, would you please escort Lady Santana back to the party? I believe she and Lady Quinn's carriage will be leaving soon, and I'm sure she'd like the chance to say good-bye before she leaves. You know," I said, my eyes sliding to meet Santana's in understanding, "to the other party guests."

Santana looked startled at my unspoken acknowledgement and acceptance of whatever it was that she and Brittany were doing, and for the first time, a genuine smile graced her lips as she looked at Blaine and I. "Kurt, Prince Blaine," she said, dipping into a curtsey. Brittany pulled on her hand and waved at us, and the two girls ran down the steps.

"Brittany is special," I explained to Blaine, "but I've learned that she is quite clever, in her own way."

"She is your friend." I nodded. Blaine smiled, looking down at the steps where the young ladies had just disappeared. "I'm glad. I cannot imagine adjusting to a new family will be easy, especially – I'm glad you have people who care for you here."

"Thank you," I said, grasping his hand between mine for a moment, "that is very sweet."

Blaine's cheeks were red and he turned back to look out the window. "It seems as though the guests are certainly taking their time to leave. It may be a while until everyone has dispersed." He turned to me with an impish grin. "But you know, Kurt, everyone is outside. You needn't resist temptation any longer."

I swallowed nervously. "Temptation?"

He strode over to the top of the stairs, running his hand along the banister. "To slide!"

I raised an eyebrow doubtfully, but Blaine was now bouncing on the balls of his feet, clearly taken with this idea. "How is this, Kurt? I'll slide to the bottom, and be there to catch you on your turn." He winked at me and moved to sit on the rail.

"Wait!" I shooed him aside, and situated myself atop the curved rail. "I have much more experience with this than you do," I said primly, smoothing down my jacket with one hand and holding the rail with the other, "and as a prince, you are much more valuable than I. I will go first."

"I would argue that last point, but very well," Blaine conceded, winking at me, "I shall learn by your example. I only hope you will be there to catch me at the end of the rail."

"I suppose you'll find out once you reach the bottom," I replied, smirking as I let go of my hold and started to slide.

The trip down the banister was certainly longer than the one at Hummel manor, but I kept my balance all the way, enjoying the freedom I felt as I picked up speed. As I neared the end of the staircase, I felt a twinge of pain, longing to see Father's smiling face and open arms, ready to catch me and keep me safe. I slid off the end with considerable speed and added a flourishing twirl to complete my landing. Blaine was applauding as I turned to look up at him and waved for him to follow. He slid down with reckless abandon; I thought it a miracle that he didn't fall off. Soon, I was watching his grinning face coming towards me, then catching him in my arms, holding him round the waist as he slipped off the end of the rail, spinning in a circle, his laughter in my ear.

"Again!" he exclaimed, his eyes full of mirth, "I can't wait till we try the banister at home!" His home? The royal palace? When would I find myself there to be sliding down the banisters? He took hold of my hand and we raced up the stairs to go again, though Blaine insisted on sliding down first. This time, when I reached the bottom, he was there to catch me, still laughing, his arms tightening around me.

As he spun me around, I caught sight of a group of people watching us silently. There stood Mother, Sir Sandy, Finn, Dave, Quinn, and Santana. Blaine completed his turn and then, spotting them, set me down gently. He bowed to the group effortlessly, but couldn't seem to contain his laughter. His ruined doublet was open and flapping ridiculously as he tried to greet them as a noble prince should.

"You…you have…" Another peal of laughter. I was glad Blaine was proving to be such a distraction, as all eyes were on him and no one took notice of the valuable and beautiful shoes on my feet.

Sir Sandy looked in rapture at the sight of the prince. Dave was glowering at me, Finn wore his usual look of dull confusion, and Santana continued to glance back and forth between Blaine and I, her eyes sparkling. Mother smirked but spoke to give Blaine time to collect his wits. "You honor us with your presence, Your Highness."

Blaine cleared his throat and wiped at his eyes, his chest still trembling with suppressed chuckles. "Forgive me; I was not laughing at you. You have my best wishes for the happiness of your union…" Blaine's eyes slid to meet mine and I pursed my lips in distaste. Blaine burst into another bout of laughter. I couldn't help myself; I joined in. Santana and Quinn began to snicker, and even Mother was suppressing chuckles behind her hand. Finn began to laugh as if he didn't really understand what was funny, but Dave continued to shoot daggers at me, and Sir Sandy looked affronted at the whole thing. I couldn't seem to care about how Dave might repay me for this, not when Blaine's eyes sparkled so, and the comforting weight of his hand fell on my shoulder as he clutched his side in mirth.

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><p>After Blaine had finally collected himself and had made a much more eloquent speech to honor Mother and Sir Sandy's marriage, he had left us with a final bow, and Quinn and Santana had departed back to Dalton's as well.<p>

Mother's eyes glittered with ambition.

"It seems you've made another conquest of sorts, Porcelain. A powerful ally."

"A freak like him? The prince would never – "

I interrupted Dave. "He isn't a conquest, Mother. Besides, the prince departs for a year in Ayorrtha soon."

"Darling," Sir Sandy simpered, hurrying forward and caressing Mother's cheek, "must we remain in this decrepit old castle?"

Mother's face softened. "Of course not, my love. We shall go at once."

In the coach, I sat wedged between the bulk of Finn and Dave, uncomfortably aware of the press of Dave's side against mine. I could smell the onion loaf on his breath and tried not to shudder. Sir Sandy and Mother sat across from us.

"Now that we are wed," Sir Sandy declared, sending a sickeningly sweet look Mother's way, "I feel it is no longer uncouth to ask. How rich are we, my beautiful bride?"

I raised my brow, wondering how Mother would respond. Would she delay the truth? Their marriage was binding (and, I suspected, Terri's spell of love even more permanent than that), so I did not see why it should matter now.

"We're just as rich as we were before, dear husband! Did you think that somehow a wedding would increase our fortune?" Mother teased affectionately. I had to admire her attempt at deflection, but it was to no avail. Evidently, Sir Sandy was just as money-hungry as Mother. A perfect match.

"I don't know. I don't mean to be silly, darling, but I know how much I have…yet I know not how much _we_ have. Won't you tell me, please?"

Mother sighed, apparently now ready to face the inevitable. "Sweetheart, you must be very brave," she said, taking his hand in hers, "I come to you a penniless woman. I have nothing to offer but myself and my love. I hope it will be enough."

Sir Sandy cradled her face in his hands. "Of course you are enough," he cooed, but then his expression began to change to one of dawning realization. "Penniless? What do you mean, penniless? Is your wealth in property rather than coin? Or…or do you mean you are actually poor?"

"I am ruined. Kurt and I managed to salvage some clothes, and nothing else."

"Father!" Dave snarled, shifting so that his elbow dug into my side painfully. I gritted my teeth. "I warned you about this! A working woman will never be truly successful! What will we tell people? Already we have this freak –"

But his words were drowned out by Sir Sandy's loud, moaning wail. "Yoouuuuu never looooved meeeee! Hooowww could youuuuu? Yooouuuu liiiiiiieeeed to meee, my loooove!" Even in his anger and pain, he clung to Mother, cursed to love her for all eternity. Mother held him close, devotion and supreme annoyance warring on her face.

Finn was panicking. "Are we all poor now? Am I gonna starve? Will there be enough food?"

"We're not poor, idiot," Dave growled, shoving me off the seat and onto the floor of the carriage. I glared up at him. "Only the freak is. Just another thing about him to pity."

"And there's nothing about you that needs pitying?" I snapped. Dave's face paled. "Perhaps we should air all of this family's dirty laundry, starting with – "

But I was interrupted as Sir Sandy stopped sobbing and lunged at me. He pawed at my jacket with a sort of mad fever in his eyes. He ripped away the gold brooch fastened to my jacket. As he peered at it closely, I took the opportunity to tuck the faerie-made shoes under my legs, out of sight from Sir Sandy's greedy eyes.

"Is this real gold?" He bit it. "Empty your pockets!" When I simply stared at him in disbelief, he shoved his hands in my pockets himself, even as I tried to squirm away. "What do you have?"

Only a comb and an old handkerchief. "Silver-plated," Sir Sandy declared, examining it closely. "I shall keep it! What else?" He flew at me again, but this time Mother stopped him, gripping his wrists.

"Sandy, we have each other now. What else matters? Love is the most valuable of all treasures." Despite her newfound (and forced) affections, I knew she was lying through her teeth. "Besides, once I travel again and do some trading, I will earn back all that was lost, and more. I will keep us all in the lifestyle to which we are accustomed."

Sir Sandy would not be deterred. He raised a shaking hand and pointed his finger down at me as he returned to his seat. "I'll not have that pauper living as an equal in my household. He shall have to earn his keep!"

Mother's eyes narrowed dangerously, but her voice stayed honeyed. "My love, Kurt is my child. I expect him to be treated with due respect. He shall not be a servant in our home. Do you understand what I'm saying, Sandy?"

Sir Sandy said nothing in reply, but the murderous expression on his face did not bode well.

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><p><strong>AN: Man, just like the show, I do seem to enjoy torturing poor Kurt, huh?<strong>

**Next chapter: Kurt learns his place at Ryerson manor, but not before Blaine pays a visit. Kurt and Brittany have an important conversation, and Finn is a thorn in Kurt's side. And what does Dave have in store for his new step-brother?**


	19. Chapter 19: Home Sour Home

_**AN: Thanks for the reviews, folks! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Ella Enchanted or Glee.**_

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><p>We rode through the night. Dave and Finn soon fell asleep, slumped against the windows and taking up the entire bench, but Sir Sandy stubbornly stayed awake and alert, glaring down at me while he absently stroked Mother's head. I wondered at how she had managed to doze off with him touching her like that. I supposed that Terri's magic had been all-consuming; they truly were in love, as much as each of them surely loathed being in such a state. I eventually lay down on the carriage floor; apparently Mother's idea of respect didn't include moving over so that I could sit next to her on the bench.<p>

We arrived back at Ryerson manor the next morning, and I left my new family quickly, thankfully avoiding any orders from Dave, who was still quite groggy. Carol wasn't due to arrive at the estate until the evening after next, but I sought out Brittany, who was laundering the many linens and cloths from the wedding banquet.

"Kurt! I'm so happy to see you," she said, rushing forward to give me a hug. "There's this stain on this table cloth, and I couldn't get it out. So I asked Lord Tubbington to look at it, but he just ended up licking it a lot."

"Let me see," I held out my hands and she pressed the cloth into them. A dark purple stain covered the material. "Grape jelly, and the material is very fine. Silk, and gnome-harvested, if I'm not mistaken. Sir Sandy certainly has expensive taste. It will need to soak for a good half-day, Brittany. Add a cup of honeydew to really work the stain out."

"Thank you, Kurt! You're so smart about things like this."

"Yes, well, we needn't spread that around. Boys are not supposed to be knowledgeable about laundry duties," I replied, running the material through my fingers.

Brittany frowned. "Why not?"

I could think of no actual reason. I shrugged. "People don't like it…just as they do not like the way that I like boys. And that reminds me, Brit. You should be more careful. Running around with Santana last night? Holding her hand in front of the prince? You two could have easily been found out. I don't want my friend to get in trouble," I added softly.

Brittany looked puzzled. "Prince Blaine didn't seem angry, did he? I can't imagine why he would be…he likes boys too, doesn't he?"

I gaped at her and then rushed to close the door to the laundry room. "Brittany!" I hissed, "You can't go around saying things like that!"

"Why not? It's the truth, is it not?"

"Well…" I hesitated, feeling my cheeks heat up, but Brittany's eyes were startlingly clear as she looked at me and nodded.

"I thought so. And I asked Lord Tubbington when we got back. He says he definitely does."

"You are going to have to introduce me to your cat, Britt," I said wryly, shaking my head as I helped her sort through napkins.

"Lord Tubbington is very particular about whom he grants an audience," Brittany informed me, "but I think he would enjoy the company of a prince. So after you and Prince Blaine are married –"

"What?" I looked at her incredulously.

"Lord Tubbington likes the company of-"

"No! You…why did you say…about Prince Blaine and I…?"

"Well, you want to marry him, don't you? I can tell you love him."

"Even…" I spluttered, "even if that was the case, Brittany, you can't be serious –"

"Santana and I will be wed one day," she carried on, calmly folding napkins.

"Men cannot marry men, and women cannot marry women, Brittany. Not here in Kyrria, at least."

"Then we'll go somewhere where we can. I love Santana, more than anyone in the world. And she loves me."

"You only met last night!"

She smiled sweetly. "Yes, but we got to know each other very well."

I blushed at this, remembering the state of Brittany's dress and Santana's disheveled hair. "What…what did you two do all that time? Did you…kiss?"

Brittany gazed down at the napkins dreamily. "I love Santana's sweet lady kisses. She tastes like cinnamon."

"Brittany…have you kissed a boy before?"

"Yes. Why? Do you want to kiss me?"

"No! No, that's quite alright. I was wondering if you could tell me…what do boys' lips taste like?" I sincerely hoped that Dave was not an indication of all men. I grimaced at the memory of his mouth on mine, the taste of sweat and the cookies I had made still on his breath.

"Usually like tobacco," she replied immediately, and then paused, considering, "or like my armpits. I do enjoy having my armpits kissed."

I made a face and looked away, hoping she would not see how much that particular idea disturbed me.

"Kurt? What's the matter? Haven't you kissed a boy?"

I thought for a moment. I did not like to lie, but it wasn't as though I could tell her about what had happened at Dalton's. "No," I said softly, my hands twisting in my lap. I thought of Blaine, his lips just a breath away from mine, his hands cradling my face gently, the way his thumb grazed my cheek. I wondered what his lips tasted like. I cursed myself for having pulled away when I did.

"Why not?"

I struggled to meet Brittany's eyes. They were so open and tender; she reminded me of Apple, my pet centaur who gazed at me as though in rapture with whatever I said, although there was a secret sort of wisdom in Brittany that few seemed to appreciate. "Being like this…the way I am," I wasn't sure how to explain it to her, "it is a curse, Brittany." Being attracted to the same sex had left me ostracized at Dalton, terrorized by Dave, forcibly kissed. It had lost me Finn's friendship and left me angry and afraid.

"No, it is not!"

This was the most impassioned I had ever heard Brittany. I looked her way only to find her glaring at me resolutely.

"Excuse me?"

"You are special, Kurt. Being special is not a curse. Prince Blaine is like you. Do you think he is cursed?"

My eyes widened. "N-no! Of course not!" Blaine was certainly not cursed; he was beautiful and brave and generous and kind.

Brittany smiled once more, her eyes softening as she patted my hand. "Santana and I are like you, too, and none of us are cursed. It seems to me that it is the world that is cursed."

Once again, Brittany's simple insight left me speechless. It was just as well that we did not continue our conversation in that vein, because Finn soon appeared in the doorway.

"Brittany, I left my clothes from the wedding in my room for you to wash. Can you go get them?" he asked, grinning dopily at her.

"Really, Finn," I snapped, "could you not have brought them here? Did you just let the garments fall off your body?"

Finn's brow furrowed, but Brittany stood up and curtsied. "Yes, Master Finnegan!"

Finn moved closer to me as Brittany left. I sighed, disliking the change in company.

"Quinn and I have ended our courtship," he confessed, frowning down at his hands.

"I am not surprised," I replied, feeling quite uncharitable, "it was obvious you made one another miserable. And you would have never chased after her if the boys at Dalton and your father had not discouraged you from courting Rachel."

Finn gave me a wounded look, but quickly recovered, staring at the doorway through which Brittany had just left. "Brittany's pretty, isn't she?"

"Yes," I said cautiously, narrowing my eyes at him. Finn looked thoughtful, far too thoughtful for such a stupid boy.

"She's a maid here."

"Very good, Finn; how long did it take for you to understand that?"

He ignored my icy sarcasm. "She has to do whatever I say…maybe I should order her to kiss me!" he said eagerly, looking like an excitable puppy.

I felt my cheeks flush with red hot anger. "Don't you dare, Finnegan Ryerson! You have no right to do such a thing!"

I realized I was yelling, stalking towards Finn and sticking a finger in his face. He looked quite alarmed and was backing away, hands raised in a sign of surrender, though he was a full head taller than I.

"I just…Quinn is gone, and I miss Rachel, and I'm lonely," he protested feebly.

"I don't care! You have no right to order anyone to kiss you!" I took a deep breath. "Perhaps you should stay away from girls altogether for awhile."

Finn's eyes widened and he shook his head vehemently, and he moved to the door. "Kurt, I don't feel like that. I like girls! I'm not a-"

"Not a freak?" I hissed, my voice cold and laced with venom. "Like me? Calm yourself, Finn. I would not kiss you if you begged me."

Finn winced at my harsh words but fled anyway, looking rather guilty. "Grow up, Finn!" I called after him, clenching my trembling hands into angry fists and fighting away the flood of memories of an ordered kiss.

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><p>The following morning, Blaine came calling. My heart jumped to my throat as I watched him ride his horse up the path to Ryerson manor through my new bedroom window. I raced down the stairs only to find myself face-to-face with Dave.<p>

"What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's none of your affair," I send him a baleful glare and tried to move around him. He stepped in front of me once more as the manservant announced Blaine's arrival. Dave glared at me.

"Going to slobber all over the prince some more, huh? I don't think so. I don't think he wants you around him."

"He's here to see me," I snapped, my trembling hands closing into tight fists at my sides. I could feel a flush creeping up my neck, sure Dave could see the red against my fair skin.

"Go to your room and stay there," Dave growled menacingly, his eyes alight with satisfaction. I noticed him twisting Father's ring round his finger. "I'm sure he wants nothing to do with you. He'd surely enjoy my company over that of a freak."

"And here I thought they were one in the same," I said dryly as I willed myself to stay in place, despite the growing aches and nausea in my body. Perhaps if I could stay long enough to have Blaine come in and order me to do something else…

Dave took a step closer to me. "Shut up. Go to your room, and don't come out until the prince has left."

I clenched my jaw and glared at him for a moment longer, but then let out a gasp of pain. It was too much. I let my body direct itself back up the stairs, my eyes lingering on the main entrance. But I was neatly tucked away in my room by the time Blaine finally entered the manor. I banged my fists against the walls, hoping he would hear and come investigate, but the wood seemed to be too thick.

I spent the first quarter hour of his visit at my doorway, trying to will my body forward and out of the room, but I only ended up crumpled on the floor and cringing in pain. The rest I spent seething by the window, watching for his departure. When he emerged from the manor another quarter hour later, I found myself pressing my hand against the window pain, desperate to reach out to him. I curled my hand into a fist, shaking with rage. How I wanted to fly and Dave and pull out his already thinning hair! Useless, I merely watched as Blaine mounted his horse, giving a gold coin to the stable hand, and kicked the stallion into a leisurely trot. He turned in his saddle for one last glance at the house, and I raised my hand in a wave, but he didn't seem to notice as he twisted back in his seat.

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><p>That night, I opened my faerie tale book and found an entry from Blaine's journal. I hesitated to read it, but assured myself that if the book was showing me, it must be important.<p>

He had departed for Ayortha. And as it turned out, he _had_ seen me in the window.

_It seems as though Kurt is avoiding me. I went to visit him today, and his brother Dave informed me he was out but would return shortly. I waited as long as I could, but the company was, well, less than pleasant. _

_As I rode away, I looked back for one last glimpse of his new home, if I could not have a last glimpse of him. He was standing in the window, looking down at me. He must have been there the whole time. Why did he not come down to see me? Surely he knew I had come calling. I worry that I have truly made him uncomfortable, or perhaps even angry. If he is angry, I wish he would have approached me and told me so. He has always seemed so honest. I planned to visit again this evening and leave for Ayortha in the morning, but Father insisted we leave tonight._

_Perhaps he is angry or scared because I tried to kiss him. Perhaps I embarrassed him in front of his new family by convincing him to slide down the rail. Perhaps they were displeased with our behavior. I wish I could have told him that I intend to spend my first night in the Ayorthan palace sliding down all the rails and making a fool of myself. I think it would make him smile. I do so love to make him smile; it seems that he does not do so often. _

_Instead I had to listen to his oaf of a step-brother try to impress me with his knowledge of weaponry. It only reminded me of Kurt mocking his professors at Dalton's. How is it that one boy can make a subject of conversation so amusing, where another makes it almost painful to endure?_

_And endure it I did, while Kurt hid from me upstairs. It pains me to think that I have damaged what we share, as I have never known a truer friend._

I yearned to set his mind at ease, but wondered how I could explain my odd behavior. I decided to simply start with a greeting, but found myself hesitating even at this. I did not know how to greet him properly. Calling him Blaine when we spoke was one thing, but to write it down? Dear Blaine sounded disrespectful, but Dear Prince Blaine and Dear Highness did not speak well to the close nature of our relationship. I worried my lip as I considered the conclusion as well. Yours truly was again too formal, but Your friend sounded silly and childish.

I skipped to the body of my letter, putting aside those bothersome details for a moment.

_I have been confined to my room. My new step-father is most displeased with me. I assure you, it has nothing to do with you. He is insulted that I disappeared from the wedding celebrations so early. My punishment is not so terrible, when one considers that my chances of encountering certain, shall we say, trying family members drastically decreases if I cannot venture from my room. _

_My only regret is that I could not come out and see you when you came to visit. I saw you arrive and leave, and I waved to you while I stood at my window, but you must not have noticed. Three more days of my sentence remain. I know that you have left for Ayortha by the morning, so I cannot hope to see you and say good-bye, which makes the punishment seem less awful, somehow._

_I do hope you will still write to me, and not just of Ayortha, but of yourself as well. I have many burning questions, and most are quite audacious. What was it like having tutors all to yourself as a boy? Did you ever study with other children? I assume you excelled in everything taught to you…but perhaps you did not? Was there a subject of study you despised? When did you come to understand you were a prince and would one day be king? How did you feel? Feel free to ignore any of these questions if they seem to you impertinent._

I told him about my childhood, those happy years with Father and Carol, playing games and baking, singing for Father and listening to he and Carol tell me stories of the faeries. I did not mention Terri's curse or the fact that Carol was a faerie.

_In my next letter, I promise to tell you more of deportment school, my Ayorthan friend Mercedes, and how Lady Rachel and I managed to become dear friends, despite our initial animosity. I shall also tell you of Tina and Michael, the elves I befriended on my travels. If you reply quickly, I shall reward you with Carol's recipe for salmon pate, so that you may try it out and impress your Ayorthan hosts._

_I must ask you to engage in a little subterfuge: please address any letters you decide to write to Carol rather than myself, and do not mark them with your name. You are shocked, I am sure, at this suggestion, but I can only hope that one who flies down stairwell rails with such reckless abandon as you can overcome his hesitation at my proposition._

I closed the letter with the Ayorthan words for "please write soon," and wondered how long it would take him to discover their meaning. I signed off with "Your listless friend, Kurt," as the adjective made it seem less immature. After further deliberation, I added "Dear Prince Blaine" for the greeting. I addressed the letter to the royal family in Ayortha, and hoped that helpful hands would convey it to Blaine.

I read Blaine's journal entry once more before putting out the lamp. As I lay in bed, trying to fall asleep, I couldn't help but wonder what my step-family had in store for me.

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><p>The next morning, Mother left to begin her travels and earn back the money she had lost.<p>

Before she left, we spoke privately.

"I leave in a quarter hour. At least that stupid faerie left me my own sense of reason and will so I actually can leave, though I'm sure I shall pine for Sandy every day. What an idiotic gift!" She picked up her letter opener and held it like a dagger. "If I could carve out the part of my heart that beats only for my husband, I would do it faster than Sandy when he's spotted a particularly ugly new fashion trend he wants to try. You know what, Porcelain? I should just do it right now."

I rolled my eyes. There was no chance of Mother ever causing herself harm. "Why must I stay here with the Ryersons?"

"You are a Ryerson now."

"I'm a Hummel!" I snapped.

"And besides, you have nowhere else to go," she continued as if I hadn't interrupted her, "you ran away from Dalton's, and you won't find better company with me on my travels. Don't run off again."

"You are better company than they are, Mother." It was true; despite my dislike of Mother, she was still preferable over Sir Sandy and Dave.

"High praise, indeed. Now, bid your mother farewell."

"Good-bye."

She patted me on the shoulder. "I prefer to love my husband from afar. I shall not soon return, Porcelain."

"I care not."

But it didn't take me long to realize that I did care about Mother's long absence. As soon as she left, my last form of protection left with her.

Once Mother's carriage was out of sight, Sir Sandy stopped bellowing his sorrow, dabbed at his eyes, and instructed Brittany and the manservant, Rory, to take my things to the servants' wing. My new room was the least of the servants' quarters, more a cell than a proper living place. With a tiny window and no fireplace, I guessed it would be quite cold in the winter.

Once my things were moved, Sir Sandy called for me. Dave stood by his side, arms crossed, and a smug expression on his face as I entered the tea room and took a seat by the door. Finn was there as well, gazing out of the window glumly.

"You are not to sit, Kurt," Sir Sandy sniffed, "it is improper and impolite to do so in the presence of your superiors."

I glared at him and remained seated. His eyes bugged out, and he spoke again, appalled.

"Did you not hear me? You are not…"

"Stand up, Kurt. And stay standing," Dave ordered, a smirk on his face.

I gritted my teeth and clutched at the edges of the chair seat. Sir Sandy watched in fascination at my efforts to stay still. It was, as usual, too much. I stood and felt my symptoms dissipate.

"Kurt is very obedient, Father," Dave gloated, coming to stand right next to me, "Kurt, tell Father just how obedient you are."

"…very obedient," I bit out. I ground the heel of my boot into his toes, and he let out a high-pitched yelp.

"What is this?" Sir Sandy asked as Dave moved a safe distance away.

"I don't know. But he'll do whatever he's told."

"Truly?" Sir Sandy squeaked, his eyes lighting up.

Dave nodded.

"You mean all this time, he would have listened to me, too?" Finn asked in disbelief. I glared at him, but he refused to meet my eyes.

"Hop on one foot three times, Kurt," Sir Sandy commanded excitement evident in his voice. My legs shook as I tried to resist, but soon I was hopping up and down.

"Davey, you're so clever!" Sir Sandy exclaimed, pinching Dave's cheek as he tried to squirm away.

"As clever as he is handsome," I commented blandly.

They both looked at me in confusion.

"But Dave is not very handsome," Finn piped up, clearly still bewildered.

My little triumph was bittersweet, but I still smirked at the look of insult on Dave's face.

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><p><em><strong>Poor Kurt! But if there's anything we know about our hero, he is a survivor!<strong>_

_**Next chapter: Carol arrives at Ryerson manor, Kurt and Blaine exchange letters.**_


	20. Chapter 20: Letters

_**AN: Ah! Over 100 reviews; thank you all so much :)**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Ella Enchanted**_

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><p>Sir Sandy sent me to my room for the rest of the day. As the sun began to set, Brittany fetched me, as Sir Sandy had called for all the servants to assemble. She brought with her a standard uniform for me to change into: plain gray trousers and a white tunic. My lip curled, but I grudgingly put the clothes on. I hoped that Carol had taken care of mine and Father's clothes; it would not do for Sir Sandy to discover their existence.<p>

The assembly was to introduce me as a servant.

"From now on," Sir Sandy announced airily, "Kurt will be one of you. I expect you to teach him how to be a proper servant. Who would like to take him?"

"I need a new stable hand," a burly man named Richard spoke up. My eyes widened in alarm. Richard was in charge of the stables, and I had seen him boxing the ears of one of the stable hands in passing the day previous. Brittany had informed me that the servants referred to him as "Rick the Stick," because of his habit of whipping his inferiors with a thin piece of birch wood. I had wanted to speak to Mother or Sir Sandy about him, but I was certainly in no position to do so now. I felt the blood drain from my face at the idea of working under this man, and saw Dave grin nastily.

"I need a helper in the kitchen." It was Carol! She must have arrived while I was confined to my room. "I know the boy, and while he is a stubborn brat, I'm convinced I can train him if given free reign over his discipline. May I have him, your lordship?"

I tried not to show how relieved I felt. Sir Sandy had tasted Carol's fine cooking far too often at this point to deny her anything she wanted.

"I don't want him to be spoiled," Sir Sandy warned, "he needs to earn his keep."

"Oh, he will," Carol promised, "I'll have blisters on those hands in no time, and you will get a fine cook as well."

Sir Sandy certainly couldn't say no to that.

A few days later, I was working in the kitchen with Carol. I enjoyed my time with her the most; it hardly seemed different from my life back at Hummel manor. However, our pleasant afternoon was soon interrupted when Finn wandered in.

"I'm hungry," he announced, "make me a cake, please."

Carol started to gather the ingredients.

"No, I want Kurt to," Finn clarified.

I sighed and started measuring the flour. Finn moved to stand by me.

"Talk to me."

I sent him a derisive glare but heeded his order. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Tell me about Rachel."

"You don't deserve to know about her," I snapped, even though I knew I would have to give in eventually, "You could have spent all your time at Dalton getting to know every little detail about her, but you squandered it away on a pointless courtship and just hurt her instead."

Finn looked cowed. "I'd do it differently, if I could, you know," he confessed. "All of it. Rachel, Quinn…you…"

"Rachel does not eat meat," I replied in an effort to obey his order, annoyed that he didn't understand that changing the subject did not relieve me of the effects of the curse, "And what do you mean?"

"I do not know," Finn mumbled, "I just feel bad. About all of it. I wish I were braver. Like you."

"I'm not brave," I informed him heatedly, "I just do what I need to in order to survive. You really do not see how easy your life is, do you? What are you so afraid of?"

Finn shrugged. He looked miserable and pitiful. I sighed. I understood that he wanted to be a better person, but I did not have the energy or the patience to be the person to guide him on that journey.

After that day, Finn followed me around like a puppy. He issued orders without thinking, and I glared at him every time. Once in a while, he would look sheepish and change the order to a request. He babbled on and on about Quinn and Rachel and what had happened at Dalton's after I left. Noah Puckerman had ended up running away, too, although in his case, he had eloped with a scullery maid named Lauren. Dave and his group of friends had continued to tease Mercedes and Rachel, and Finn told me how much he regretted not defending Rachel's honor. He continued to pester me, asking my opinions about his ridiculous relationships until my feelings for him changed from seething resentment to amused disdain. He truly was an oblivious boy, but I could tell that he was well-meaning underneath his cowardice and ignorance. Eventually, I no longer minded his presence, and told him I could tolerate him well enough, and would try to help him become worthy of Rachel, so long as he did not order me about nor disrespect any of the maids, particularly Brittany. His dopey grin at this announcement was endearing enough to have me smiling a little in return.

A week after my servitude had begun, Sir Sandy hosted a formal dinner, to console himself over Mother's departure. The morning before, he had me scrubbing the dining hall floor with lye and water while he supervised.

"Scrub on your hands and knees, Kurt. Add more lye to the water." My hands smarted every time I dipped the rag into the mixture, and within the first half hour, my knuckles were bleeding. At one point, Dave walked through the hall with muddy boots, whistling nonchalantly. Several servants also passed by, either gawking or snickering at me.

Brittany also came by two hours after I had started, during one of Sir Sandy's inspections.

"Scrub harder, Kurt! I want the floors to reflect my captivating countenance."

I bit my lip and tried not to laugh as Brittany snuck up behind him and pretended to dump a bucket of water over his head.

"What amuses you?" Sir Sandy asked angrily.

"Nothing," I said, and stopped smiling.

Finally, after three hours, the floor was glistening and immaculate. I went to Carol, my hands bleeding and blistered. Fortunately, no other servants were around.

"Oh sweetie!" she cried when she saw my hands. She gripped my wrists gently and made me sit down, grabbing a jug of Tonic from the cupboard. I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she applied some of it to my wounds.

I derived further satisfaction later that day, once the banquet had started. Brittany was starting to bring out the individual Cornish hens, when I asked her to pause. I plucked an herb from one of Mandy's jars and crushed it, sprinkling it over one of the dishes in particular.

"Give this one to Sir Sandy," I told Brittany.

"What will it do?" Brittany looked worried.

"I don't want to be blamed when his lordship ends up snoring in front of his guests," Carol warned.

"Oh, is that all?" Brittany asked mildly, "He could use a nap, I think. He's been grumpier than usual today." And with that, she left to deliver the meal.

"A good girl, that Brittany," Carol observed, and I grinned at her.

Rick the Stick and a stable hand had to be called into the dining hall to cart an unconscious Sir Sandy to his sleeping quarters before the guests had finished dessert. Brittany and I watched through a hole in the kitchen wall, giggling, as the two men struggled with his bulk and the horrendous lavender cape he was wearing.

Despite the host's early retirement, the festivities continued into the night, and unfortunately, I witnessed them first hand when Dave summoned me to tend the fire. I fumed silently as members of court and nobility watched me move about, dirty and covered in soot. People like Dave's friends had always viewed me as inferior, and now here was the concrete proof.

I could not think of a way out of this situation. Mother had ordered me not to run off again, and Carol's magic was too small to be of much help. Blaine was hundreds of miles away, and there was no way to explain my troubles to him.

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><p>My spirits rose three days after the humiliation of Sir Sandy's banquet when a letter arrived for me from Blaine, a mere ten days after I had sent mine. In it, he signed off with simply "Blaine," and so I knew it had been silly to address him as "Prince Blaine" in print. We wrote letter after letter for the next year. As I had requested, Blaine addressed his letters to Carol, who pretended to have a lover writing to her. Sir Sandy chortled at the idea of Carol's romance, though Brittany and I agreed that he had no place to judge, considered his absurd, mercenary marriage to Mother.<p>

Blaine wrote in a loose, sweeping scrawl, in contrast to my meticulous, tiny cursive. I enjoyed the contrast. In his fourth letter, he wrote:

_Dear Kurt,_

_I think you would very much like it here in Ayortha. For one, the Ayorthans revere music; it often seems as though they prefer to communicate through song rather than simply speaking. I feel self-conscious at times, as my flat, Kyrrian accent sounds jarring against the lilting musicality of the language of Ayortha. Still, I do enjoy joining in with the singing, which occurs spontaneously and quite often. _

_When they are not singing, Ayorthans hardly speak at all. It is very strange for me, as I tend to ramble to fill the silence. I fear it makes me look quite the fool in front of the solemn dignitaries at the palace. They must wonder why I waste so much of my voice on mundane conversation. And how I long for conversation! _

_The other day, I was walking in the gardens with a young duke named Jeremiah – _

Jeremiah? Walking in the gardens? My stomach twisted and it took me a moment to understand what I was feeling. I was jealous.

_In my mind, I commented on the beauty of the flowers, told him about a similar kind we have in Kyrria, and asked what their flowers were called. In my imagination, he would have agreed that the flowers were beautiful, told me their name, and asked me to describe the Kyrrian lilies._

_Of course, when I actually did remark on the flowers and ask their name, he remained silent for a generous stretch of time, and replied with only their name. I assume he spent so much time wondering why I would disturb the natural music the birds provided with pointless conversation that in the end, he could only muster the energy to supply one word._

_I realize now that, denied the opportunity to ramble out loud, I am instead rambling to you in writing. How disappointing I am sure you will find this letter!_

_Most of my imaginary conversations are not with Jeremiah, but with you. I know what I would say to you if I were with you in Frell. I would tell you more than once how glad I was to see you, and tell you more of Ayortha. I would ask you how you are adjusting to your new family life, and inquire after Apple and your cook, Carol. The only danger to our conversation is would be that at any moment I could turn Ayorthan and trail off into silence, too preoccupied in smiling at you._

_The trouble is, I cannot guess as to your responses to any of these topics of conversation, and so my imaginary dialogue remains incomplete. The only solution, as I see it, is for you to write to me again, and soon, and often!_

_Your very good (and currently silent) friend,_

_Blaine_

In my reply, I decided to give him the conversation he so desired:

_Good day! Pip pip! Nice weather today, isn't it? But is looks like rain, don't you think? But as the giants say, we cannot always have sunny days. And they're right, are they not? Too bad, I daresay; life would be much happier if every day were a sunny one. At least, that is what I think. Do you not agree, sir? A fine, dapper fellow such as yourself; I am sure you have enough sense to concur._

_Have I rid you yet of your want for conversation?_

I paused in my writing. I struggled with each letter to find truthful things to say, though I could not really tell him about my servitude to the Ryersons (as I still could not tell him about Terri's curse). I recalled that Sir Sandy had recently hosted a debutante ball for his poorer cousin's daughter. I described the event in lavish detail, omitting the fact that I was only in attendance to keep the goblets full of wine.

His reply to this letter was interesting, to say the least.

_They have something like debutante balls here in Ayortha, but they are called "coming out" balls. Kurt, there is something I have discovered that I truly appreciate about this land, and I think you will as well. Ayorthans are much more accepting and tolerant of people like us. Coming out balls occur when young Ayorthans have discovered what gender they prefer in a life mate (and some people seem to like both men and women!), and the discovery is treated with respect, no matter what that preference is. They even have a name for our kind here: "gay." I am told that the root of its meaning is the Ayorthan word for "happy," and the sentiment makes me smile. People have even started marrying partners of the same gender here. I have met many "gay" women and men. It has been an incredible and encouraging experience. Would that you were here with me, taking it all in. Someday, if you like, we shall travel here together and soak in the culture, the music, the acceptance and fellowship._

My heart ached at the thought of the paradise he described, especially as it stood in contrast to my current circumstances. And my stomach churned with jealousy, imagining all the handsome and musically gifted "gay" Ayorthan men that Blaine must have met and conversed with.

His closing remarks had me smirking, though:

_By the way, you are almost three months older than the last time I saw you. Are you still too young to marry?_

I laughed at his joke, but then thought sadly of the groom I'd make, dressed in cheap, threadbare rags, hair limp and coated with soot, smudges of grease on my face and my hands, having just finished preparing dinner.

Blaine repeated the query at the end of each of his letters from then on, most likely because my nonsensical replies amused him. If not too young to marry, I was too hungry, or too cold, or too sleepy, or too concerned with the newest trends in court fashion.

I did also write of more serious matters.

_I confess that I have found no one within my step-family in whom I can confide. I have little in common with any of them, and while Finn and I share a strange sort of amiable relationship now, he is not the sort of person I feel I can turn to with anything serious. I am grateful to have parchment, a pen, and, above all, a friend in you._

He replied: My mouth may go dry from a lack of spoken conversation here, but I will be able to preserve language, so long as I can still correspond with you.

I sometimes tortured myself by wondering what would happen if I told Blaine in one of my letters that I was now the right age to marry. With each letter, I fell more in love with him. I realized now that what I used to feel was mere infatuation, and it paled in comparison to the heady ache in my chest that never seemed to go away now, and only intensified when I read one of Blaine's letters or composed one to send to him. I knew my love was true when his letters turned more serious, and he trusted me to confess his flaws and less appealing characteristics, and the ache in my chest did not go away. Instead, it only seemed to grow.

In one such letter, he begged my confidence and wrote:

_Just as I am slow to anger, I am slow to forgive. I do not let go of grudges easily; once my rage has been incited, it hardly ever truly goes away._

_For example, my sister had a languages tutor two years ago who treated her horribly. I found her crying in the courtyard after her lesson one afternoon. He had told her she was stupid and silly and that he saw no point in tutoring frivolous females such as she. I saw red. I had him dismissed immediately; Father trusted my judgment on such matters._

_But I took things further than that. I made sure the tutor would not be employed in Kyrria again. Even though the man is ruined, and two years have passed, I still feel a simmering anger when I think of him. I simply cannot let it go. I worry how this flaw will affect my ability to rule over Kyrria one day, and wonder if, deep down, I will be the sort of ruler who does not allow anyone to challenge me or my family._

I wrote back to him,

_Carol believes there are two kinds of people: those who blame others, and those who blame only themselves. I believe I am in a privileged third category: those who can tell where the blame truly lies. Here is my judgment: you stand condemned, Blaine. Your crime? Guilty of too much passion in protecting those you love. Both a vice and a virtue, depending on the context. How shameful!_

_Though you have freely confessed your faults to me, I do not feel compelled to such frankness. No, if you long to know more of the unfortunate aspects of my character, you shall have to find them out yourself. I do hope that when you do, you will be able to forgive them, though it goes against your nature._

I remember the date of Blaine's next letter. It arrived exactly one month after my 17th birthday; we had been writing to each other for just about a year. Carol received the letter in the morning, but I could not read it all day. Sir Sandy had me cleaning windows at dawn, and at lunch Dave ordered me to fetch his shoes from the cobbler. When I delivered them to him, he made me polish all his shoes and boots and sat leering at me the whole time, making my skin crawl. By the time I was finished, it was late evening, and Carol was just washing the last of the dishes. I took the letter up to my room, lit a candle, and broke the seal on the envelope.

_Dear Kurt,_

_I like to think I am a patient person. I confess that your letters torment me; corresponding with you is an exercise in particularly painful frustration. I am currently fighting the urge to saddle my horse and ride day and night to Frell so I can demand an explanation._

_Your letters are thoughtful, playful, funny, and interesting. You offer me incredible insights into my life and thoughts and experiences. I am always elated when a new letter arrives, but I inevitably end up disappointed. You share nothing of your day to day life with me, not really. This I do not mind; I am intrigued by the mystery of it, and enjoy guessing based on what little you do share._

_What I do mind is that you also do not tell what I truly long to know: how you feel, though I've given you hint after hint of my affection and regard._

_We are friends and you like me; you would not write to me so often if this were not the case. But I have loved you since the moment I first looked in your eyes. They were wet with tears as you stood, beautiful and remarkable, underneath a willow tree in the old castle's graveyard two years ago. But more than the beauty of your eyes, I was captivated by the soul in them, and have remained so ever since. They seemed to hold a thousand stories to tell, and to this day, I ache to hear them all._

_I want to embrace you and be with you for the rest of my life and beyond, but with each letter you tell me you are too young to marry, or too old, or too lazy, or too tall, until I ball up your letters in frustration and despair, only to smooth out the wrinkles and read your words over and over, attempting to read in between the lines for some secret meaning that I, ever the masochist, convince myself I will find, if only I am clever and resourceful enough. _

_I longed to confess my love the night of your mother's wedding, when you told me you would not kiss me, because you thought I saw you as an experiment. I could not force the words out; you seemed so vulnerable and frightened. That moment was one of the most painful in my life. To see you hurting so much, and I did not know why or how to help. For all the power my status grants me, I felt like a centaur colt, stupidly staring and completely useless in the face of your pain. I felt terrible that I had caused you to feel in such a way, and I was so relieved when you seemed to recover soon after. Still, I longed to tell you of my feelings, but found myself a coward after such a botched attempt._

_After spending a great deal of time in Ayortha, Father has become a fair deal more open minded. He is considering reworking the marriage laws in Kyrria. He often asks if there is a lad who has struck my fancy. I tell him no. It is a matter of pride; I do not want him to know of my affection if my feelings are not reciprocated._

_I am certain that if you met them, you would have Father, as well as Mother and Abigail, falling in love with you, just as I have._

_I cannot even picture what our wedding would look like, because I know you would plan something far more immaculate and beautiful than I could imagine. I only know that I can imagine your face (which, I must confess, would be the only thing I would look at the entire time), fair and handsome and radiant. What a wonderful husband you shall one day be, whomever you choose to wed, and at whatever age. And what a magnificent king, if I were lucky enough to be your choice! Who else has your voice? Your humor? Your wit? Your compassion? I could endlessly list all your virtues, but I'd rather omit them, in favor of you finishing this letter and responding just that much sooner._

_I call upon whatever patience is left in me and anxiously await your reply._

_Love (you cannot imagine the catharsis I feel to actually pen the word), love, a thousand times love,_

_Blaine_

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><p><em><strong>Next chapter: Well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?<strong>  
><em>


	21. Chapter 21: A Necessary Reply

**AN: Thanks everyone for the reviews! I'm glad you liked the last chapter :) Blaine sure can be romantic when he wants to be, huh? **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ella Enchanted or Glee.**

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><p>I stared at the parchment. I couldn't read Blaine's words over again; my hands were shaking the letter too violently, and tears had clouded my vision.<p>

Blaine loved me. Loved me. He had loved me since the day we met.

I blinked away the tears and forced myself to take two long, deep breaths. I read the letter over again, noticing I had smudged part of it with the grease on my hands.

_Love, love, a thousand times love_

_Love a million times over, Blaine,_ I thought, my heart thudding in my chest as I made no effort to prevent the tears now, or to stop the full-teeth smile spreading across my face.

I loved him with every last bit of me. I loved his dark, glossy curls, his beautiful eyes, his rich voice, his kindness and playfulness, his appreciation of my humor, his sincere desire that I know his faults. And, as selfish as it was, I loved his love for me. I could scarcely believe it. A man loved me. And I loved a man. Blaine loved me, and I loved him.

I gasped, bringing my hand to my mouth, and then set Blaine's letter down carefully. I leapt up and shook my shoulders in a little dance of joy.

Blaine and I could marry and we would be together always.

I would never have to see Dave or Sir Sandy again.

And as the prince's consort, nobody would be giving me any orders.

I had to sit down again and calm my too-fast breathing. My eyes darted around the room in pure speculation as to how wonderful things could be. This was a solution to my problem that I had not foreseen. I thought with relish of how Terri would feel if she knew I had found a true loophole in her spell. Carol would be so happy and proud that I had found a way around the curse.

_Blaine shouldn't be made to be patient even a moment longer than is necessary,_ I thought to myself with glee. I jumped up from my bed and pulled out a piece of parchment from under my mattress.

However, just as I penned the words _Dearest Blaine, My Darling, My Love_, the wick on my stub of a candle flickered out, and I was drenched in darkness. Nothing could dampen my spirits, and I fell asleep composing my reply in my head.

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><p>I woke with a start in the middle of the night and sat staring into the darkness for a moment. Then I began to weep.<p>

Marrying Blaine would not break the curse. Blaine would be marrying a cursed man, and he would be cursed as a result. My step-family already knew I would do anything they ordered, and they would surely use the knowledge to leech off of Blaine and improve their social status and fortune. And there was no way to keep Blaine safe. If my obedience were discovered, an enemy kingdom could order me to reveal military secrets. I could be ordered to assassinate Blaine!

And my curse would certainly be revealed to the noble class eventually. With all those eyes and ears and gossiping lips, some as clever as Santana and others as cruel as Dave, I wouldn't be able to fool them for the rest of my life.

I wiped furiously at my eyes. Father had ordered me never to tell anyone about the spell, but…I could ask Carol to counter that command, so I could tell Blaine, and he could take precautions to make sure no one could ever take advantage of my curse. That was it. I smiled and made to get out of bed. I'd wake Carol right now and tell Blaine everything.

No sooner than my feet had hit the floor that I was drawing them back up again, and hugging my knees in misery.

For what precautions could Blaine possibly take to guard against the dangers of my spell? He could shut me away, barring anyone from speaking to me or writing me a letter. He would be the only one I could come in contact with, and what sort of life would that be for either of us? He would have to bring me my meals, tend to my clothes, look after my every need. The subjects of Kyrria would hate such a reclusive consort for their prince and future king, and many would surely hate me already for being a man.

I could request that he forfeit the crown to his sister, Princess Abigail, but how could I ask such a thing? Blaine was meant to lead, not only by virtue of his blood, but by the very nature of his character. And would he even entertain such an idea? Would we simply be putting Abigail in danger, instead?

I gripped my hair in frustration and dismay, searching the corners of my mind for a solution that simply did not exist.

I was well and truly cursed, and doomed to curse anyone close to me. I was a dangerous burden, and Blaine did not deserve such hardship in his life, which was all I could possibly bring him. I could not marry him, not if I truly loved him. I swore to myself, then and there, tears cascading down my face, that if I ever managed to break the spell, be it tomorrow or weeks from now, or twenty years hence, I would find him and win his heart once again, no matter what it took.

I bit down on my lip to stifle a sob as the finality of my decision truly dawned on me. For now, I had to convince him to give up on me.

As the sun's first rays of light filtered through my window, I willed my shaking hands to take up my quill. I ruined the first two drafts of my letter because I could not stop my tears from making blotches of the ink, and I needed to write a fourth, because I forgot to misspell words on the third.

_Dear Prince Blaine,_

_My father, Sir Sandy, received your latest letter to my step-brother, but I am the only one who has red it. Kurt and our cook Carol was not here to except it from the messanger. _

_Kurt is gone because he has eloped with a rich widow. He took the cook with him. He left a note, which I have inclosed for you to read._

_Kurt as been lying to you all along. He thought it very entertaning to read your letters out loud to us all during tea time. He used to laugh and laugh. He told us it was a grate acomplishment that he had a royal such as yourself writing to him._

_For a while, it seamed as though he had ambitions towards your royal fortune, or the power you could give him if he were to be your close companion, but he grew tired of waiting and took the old widow up on her offer of luxury and riches. Kurt had a violent temper, and I am certain he would have flew into one of his fits if he new now of the contents of your letter. I do not think he was happy living under our roof and relying on my father's generos nature; he longed to gloat about his own, more impressive splendur and wealth. _

_Your letter came to us three days after he departed. I remember because Father's frend Sir Goolsby threw a ball that night, and Kurt's many friends and admirers missed him soarly. I shall give you the same advise I gave to them: think no more of the skeeming braggart, for he most surely has already forgotten you._

_I am sorry to write this bad news to you, and you can be sure I will keep your letter and your strange desires a secret (nor will I ever mention them; I promise). _

_Your loyal subjekt,_

_Finnegan Ryerson of Frell_

I ripped off a spare bit of parchment and wrote in my own meticulous penmanship:

_Congratulate me; I am a married man. You all know of my wife, but I shall not write her name. Just know that she is very old and very rich. I doubt I shall have to endure her for very long, and when she dies, I shall be free to enjoy the foolish woman's wealth at my leisure._

_I cannot be bothered to write to any of you again, but do look for me on the streets of Frell, if you wish. Perhaps one day, you will see a magnificent carriage pass by, and catch a glimpse of me in the window, wearing the finest silks and brocades in the latest styles, sampling the richest delicacies from foreign lands, and laughing at this ridiculous world! _

_- Kurt_

Blaine was one to bear a grudge. His behavior and attitude towards his tutor had revealed him to be. I almost laughed, considering how earnestly Blaine had endeavored to make me understand this undesirable trait of his, but there was no humor in it. His anger towards the man who had hurt his sister's feelings would pale in comparison to what he would feel for me. He would hate me for the rest of all time.

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><p><strong>AN: Oh, Kurt. Poor thing.<strong>

**Next chapter: Carole confronts Terri, Blaine's reaction is revealed, and Kurt learns even more of Blaine from an unexpected source.**


	22. Chapter 22: Misery

**AN: Thanks for the reviews! This is the longest chapter yet; enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ella Enchanted or Glee.**

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><p>It was only after Carol returned from sending off the letter, thinking it just like any other I had sent to Blaine, that I told her what I had done.<p>

I let her hold me, smoothing my hair and trying to comfort me with murmured assurances that I had made the right choice. I found I could shed no more tears, but simply stared blankly at the wall of my room as she rocked me back and forth gently.

She told Sir Sandy that I was ill, so ill that I should stay in bed, rather than risk infecting him. To this, Sir Sandy certainly made no disagreements, and I was allowed a day's bed rest. Brittany came to visit me, and though she had no idea of what had transpired, she seemed to sense that my sickness was not of the body, but the mind. She held my hand and told me stories of Lord Tubbington, and a little lizard she had befriended, but whom she suspected of stealing Finn's cufflinks. She managed to coax a little smile from me, but I said little.

That evening, Carol came to see me again, bringing supper and a cup of Tonic. She sat with me as I ate her hearty stew and grudgingly swallowed the Tonic. Finally, she spoke.

"I know it hurts, lovey, but you did the right thing," she paused, tilting my chin up with her fingers, "and it is past due that I do the same."

She led me down to the kitchens and told me to hide behind the curtains.

I tried to ignore my symptoms setting in as I hesitated. "Why?"

Carol fixed me with a resolute stare. "It is high time I settle some things with our silly friend Terri. I think you need to see me do it, but I do not want her seeing you."

I needed no further explanation, and concealed myself in the draperies, creating a little crack through which to peer.

"Terri! I request your presence."

There was a bright flash of light and I had to squeeze my eyes shut. The scent of roses filled the air, and once I opened my eyes and looked through the crack, I could see Terri, beautiful and radiant as ever, standing with Carol.

"I'm so flattered! Imagine, a kitchen faerie calling on me for help! What can I do for you, my dear?"

"Don't you 'my dear' me," Carol waved a hand in annoyance, but then sighed, "though you are right; I do need your help."

Terri managed to make her voice both compassionate and smug at the same time. "I do so love to help those in need!" My lip curled at her exclamation.

Carol seemed to hesitate. "I've…I've been working up the courage to ask you this since the last faerie ball."

"You needn't be afraid, silly thing; you need only ask."

"I'm afraid I got into an argument with April," Carol sounded meek and regretful; I found I did not like this tone coloring her normally bossy and confident voice.

"What a shame," Terri simpered, tsking just a little, "Arguing is certainly not an admirable past time. I never engage in it, myself."

"Well, I do. The argument was about you. April thought it was a good idea to suggest that you know the realities of your two favorite gifts. She thought we should tell you to try being a squirrel, and try being obedient, for six months each. She said that if you gave them each a fair go, you'd realize your gifts are not quite as wondrous as you like to believe."

Terri sniffed, her nose high in the air. "That's preposterous. I do not need to try out my own gifts to know how happy they make the recipients."

"There," Carol said firmly, "I knew you would say that. I'll have to tell April that I was right. She didn't think you would be too scared to put your spells to the test."

Terri let out a little offended gasp, and then vanished. I assumed that she was so furious with Carol that she could not stay a second longer, but then I noticed that Carol was smiling down at the ground.

"Now, remember, little one: six months each. Don't forget about the obedience! Here; have a peanut. I'm sending you to a nice little park in rural Ayortha." Carol looked up and in my direction. "You can come out now, Kurt."

"Did she truly turn herself into a squirrel?" I asked in astonishment.

Carol laughed, and there was a little meanness to it. "Of course. She's much too proud to back down from a challenge like that."

"Do you think she'll learn her lesson?"

"Well, if she doesn't, then I fear she's an even bigger fool than any of us could have imagined."

I was quiet for a moment, a growing sense of hope in my chest. "If she does, though…do you suppose she might undo all the curses she has given out?"

"I don't know, lovey. But in the mean time, at least I've spared any poor souls from her mischief for the next year."

"But if she understands how horrible it is, surely she'll want to remedy her mistakes."

Carol looked at me with sympathy. "Perhaps. But it would mean more big magic." She tried to pull me close. "Oh, Kurt, I know how hard that spell makes things for you-"

"No, you don't!" I snapped, twisting out of her embrace and wrapping my arms around myself. "How can you even pretend to understand, especially when I just…when I just did what I did to Blaine?" I could hear the hysteria rising in my own voice, so I turned away to collect myself. "Besides," I continued bitterly, once I had calmed down, "How can you frown at the thought of big magic when you just summoned Terri here? And then sent squirrel-Terri to another country?"

"Nothing one faerie does to another is considered big magic, Sir Kurt," Carol explained gently.

I spun around to face her. "Don't call me that. It sounds like what you called Father. Look at me," I gestured to my rags and dirty hands, "I hardly qualify as nobility, Carol."

"You are a noble, and you deserve the title just as much as your father did. Much more than Sir Sandy does. If you'd thought of yourself first and married the prince, you would have put his life in jeopardy. You are a hero, love."

My face crumpled. "I'd rather be with Blaine than be a hero." I hugged myself tight even as Carol stroked my arms soothingly.

"Never lose hope, sweetie. Perhaps it will turn out right some day." Her apron made a crinkling noise as she hugged me close. "Oh! I almost forgot; a letter came for you this afternoon."

My heart leapt to my throat as she presented the dog-eared envelope to me.

"It is not in Prince Blaine's hand," she told me gently.

The letter was from Mother.

_Porcelain,_

_Your forced servitude pains me, but not enough to return home to my loving husband's arms. I have much trading to do with the leafies, and then I will move on to the gnomes. I shall send money when I have made enough, and perhaps that will sate my love's thirst for riches and penance. To be honest, he will probably refuse to lose you as his servant so long as you are unwed, so I shall try to find you a suitable, and wealthy, bride during my travels. Until then, you must endure whatever trials the Ryersons heap upon you. I do hope you maintain your Sylvester pride._

I could not help the maniacal laughter that escaped me as I wordlessly handed the letter over for Carol to read. Mother's efforts would transform my last letter to Blaine from lie to truth. I would indeed end up married to a rich old woman. Carol's confusion turned to tentative chuckles as she read the contents of the letter, and soon we were clutching at each other, sinking to the floor, tears streaming down our faces, and I could no longer tell if I was laughing or sobbing.

Eventually we quieted and Carol held me, rocking back and forth and humming a gentle tune. I could not help but hope that once Terri understood how truly awful it was to be forced into obedience, she would have to help me, and I would be free of this wretched curse.

* * *

><p>A week later, I opened my faerie tale book to see that Blaine had received my letter. On the first page was an illustration of him throwing all of my letters into a fire. As much as it pained me to see his rage and hurt, I could not help but stroke my fingers over his image and be grateful to lay eyes on him again. His hair was shorter than it had been at Mother's wedding, but it looked unruly, as if he had been running his hands through it. His thick brows were drawn down and together, hiding his eyes and giving him an overall intimidating look.<p>

I turned the page and found the latest entry in Blaine's journal. Instead of Blaine's sure and confident strokes, the writing was shaky and sloppy. Wet splotches smeared the ink in some places.

_I -ve lost nothing, because he was never truly my friend, much less my love. I am such a fool. Father warns me so often of people who will use me for my w-h and station, and what do I do? Fall for the first pretty face who looks at me and convinces me with his deception and his innocent glances and his feigned blushes that he can be trusted, that he cares for me, that I might fall in l- and find happiness. I can only count my blessings that the conniving wretch eloped before he received my last le-r. Kyrria, if not my heart, is safe from his contrivances and ambitions._

_When I first read the letter from his step-brother, I thought perhaps it was a ruse to turn me against Kurt. I was resolved not to be deceived, and thought I might ride to Kyrria and find out the truth for myself. But eventually I had to stop being a sentimental fool and r-ize the truth._

_Finnegan Ryerson would have no reason to lie to me about this. If Kurt and I were to be married, the Ryerson household would only benefit from an increase in wealth and rise in station. But in the end, it was Kurt's note that made me face the truth. It sounded just like him, and it was certainly written in his precise penmanship; there is no chance that Finnegan could have possibly forged it._

_Just as he de-t with the ogres, he charmed me. What a clever trickster. He never did tell me the real reason he was hiding during his Mother's wedding. All I can think now is that he was avoiding some lovesick widow not quite rich enough for his attention. And when he avoided me after the wedding, that, too, must have been some elaborate scheme, though I cannot fathom what purpose it served. Perhaps the ambitious pretender knew how heartsick it w-d make me to visit and not get a chance to speak with him._

_But his letters to me were the greatest and worst of his deceptions. He seemed so full of compassion and good-s, but I suppose that is the way with these young courtiers. Kurt could not survive keeping society amongst the other nobles unless he, too, was a shallow, money-hungry liar who held no qualms with toying with the emotions of others. How he must have laughed when I confessed my mistakes and flaws to him!_

_I can feel my heart hardening. How am I to trust another after this? I think of his handsome face, those beautiful, seemingly sweet and honest eyes that seemed to tell a thousand stories. If only I knew that those stories were lies! He seemed so pure and untainted by the ugliness of this oftentimes cruel world; I should have known that such goodness cannot truly exist._

There was more. He called me a variety of unpleasant names: _seducer_, _charlatan_, _flirt_, even _monster_. At this point, his writing became so smeared with the wetness of his tears that I could not make out what he was saying.

In his next paragraph, his writing was more even and controlled:

_I no longer wish to be in Ayortha. The silence affords too much time for thought, and my thoughts still fly to him, as hateful as they may be. And the singing only heightens my pain, for I cannot help but recall his enchanting voice and how it melded so perfectly with mine. Though I cannot control my traitorous wanderings of my mind, I hereby vow never to write or speak of him again, and I shall force my pen and tongue to keep that promise._

I leaned my head back against the wall where I sat on my bed and sighed, feeling the sting of tears once again. I had hurt him so much. How could I expect him to ever forgive me, when I did not know if I could ever forgive myself?

* * *

><p>I survived the next year, filled with constant orders and nagging from Sir Sandy and leers as well as invasions of my personal space from Dave, by imagining the sheer elation I would feel when Terri undid her spell and I could finally be free, and by continuing to write letters to Blaine, though I did not send them. In these letters, I was completely honest about my situation, about everything, the curse, Sir Sandy, Dave's forceful and terrifying kiss, Brittany and Santana, that Carol was my faerie godmother. When Dave accused Finn of being "a freak," I ranted about his hypocrisy. When Brittany told me that Lord Tubbington wished to marry Pavarotti, I recounted all the details of the fantasy wedding and imagined Blaine laughing along with me.<p>

I told him of Finn's growing maturity, and how he had started up his courtship of Rachel again. Of how much it pained me when Finn brought me a letter written in her hand, and I had to refuse to read it, as I was still barred from being her friend. Of the look on Finn's face when he mumbled to me how very hurt she was by my sudden change of heart.

I told him what Brittany told me of Santana: that the two were engaged in their own correspondence, but Santana was too frightened for the world to know of her love for another woman. I spared neither parchment nor ink in describing Brittany's sweetness and patience, and how I hoped she would not end up heartbroken.

I also described to him what I envisioned to be my life without the curse.

_My very first act shall be to tell you how deeply in love with you I have fallen. My second shall be to fall at your feet and beg for your forgiveness a thousand times. The third shall be to cover your face with kisses, if you will have them. And then I shall make reparations by making you laugh for every tear I have caused your eyes to shed._

A few days after my 18th birthday, Dave jabbed at my side until I woke up. He had just returned from the latest debutante ball; this one had been in honor of some noble's bratty daughter named Harmony, whom Sir Sandy had encouraged Dave to pursue, once his courtship of Santana had ended. He demanded that I rouse myself and draw him a late night bath. I shivered in disgust but did not bother resisting his order.

As I heated the water in the kitchen, Dave sat on a stool and stared at me, making my skin crawl. I could feel his beady eyes boring into my back and silently prayed that he would not think to resume the kind of torture he had dealt me all those years ago, during my last night at Dalton's. I had not been kissed since that wretched night, and certainly did not wish for my second to be a repeat of the first. I nearly jumped when he spoke.

"The gossips could speak of nothing else tonight but Prince Blaine's return two months from now," he drawled out. My heart began to pound in my chest, even though I had had the date of Blaine's intended return to Kyrria memorized for a very long time.

"Apparently, King Andrew is going to hold three balls in honor of his return, and by the end of the last, the prince will announce his betrothal to the royal consort of his choice. I read the invitation," Dave went on, a cruel sort of satisfaction in his voice, "I wonder who the lucky girl will be?"

I said nothing, and simply lifted the large cast iron pot of boiling water off the stove, using two spare rags to protect my hands. He followed me out of the kitchen and I could feel the heat from his body, he followed me so close, but for once I didn't care. I could only think of the grand balls King Andrew planned on throwing for his son.

"I bet it just tears you apart, doesn't it? Knowing that your pathetic infatuation with him would repulse him if he knew. I do not even know why he tolerated your presence before he left for Ayortha. It was frankly embarrassing to see you fawning all over him with your weirdness-"

I swung around suddenly, and Dave yelped as some of the hot water sloshed over the edge of the pot and landed on his bare feet.

"You are ridiculous," I informed him coolly, "We both know what it is your hiding, and yet you keep up this pretence, even when we are alone, that you do not have the same kind of feelings I do. You know I won't tell anyone-"

"Yeah, I forbid you to!" Dave interjected mulishly.

"Yes, I am well aware of your order," I snapped, "so I do not know why you insist on lording it over me. I am already a servant in this house, at your beck and call, so what further satisfaction can you get from your childish teasing?"

Dave simply gaped at me.

"Do you want to know what I think? I think you are jealous, because while we both may have these feelings that most Kyrrians would shame us for, I do not apologize for them any longer, while you remain a scared little boy, hiding in the corner of your room and content on abusing others to cover up your own fears. You could have kept your secret hidden for all your life, and that would have been fine, but instead you chose to hurt me and my friends. And that makes you a _coward_," I spat, shoving the cooling pot into his arms and turning on my heel. I swept away, my head held high, until I heard Dave's strangled voice calling me back and insisting I still had to finish preparing his bath. I resisted for a moment and then gave up with a sigh. Forced obedience made a dignified exit difficult to pull off.

I lay awake after that stomach clenching with anticipation. Terri's self-imposed trials of her gifts were due to come to a close in a few weeks, and then hopefully she would free me of the curse. I could not decide if I wanted to steal Sir Sandy's prize stallion and ride day and night to Ayortha to find Blaine right away, or if I should wait for his return to Kyrria, and arrive at the first ball in the finest ensemble Carol and I could create to try to dazzle him.

* * *

><p>Finally, it arrived. One year to the day that I had sent Blaine the letter that would break his heart and ruin myself in his eyes, but also one year to the day that Terri agreed to experience life as a squirrel and then cursed with obedience.<p>

As before, I hid in the draperies while Carol summoned her. There was the flash of light, but no smell of roses filtered into the air this time. I could hear Terri whimpering and sniffling.

"Stop your whining," Carol said coldly.

Evidently, Terri was no longer under the curse of obedience, because this only caused her weeping to grow louder. "I cannot," she sobbed, her voice no longer wispy and melodic, but harsh and short of breath, "but if I were made to be obedient, I would have to anyway, despite my own feelings!" she wailed. "What did I do to all those poor people? I was a fool, so careless and stupid, to do big magic like that! Whatever was I thinking?"

"Surely you are not telling me that you didn't enjoy your gifts." Normally, I would have giggled at the amount of sarcasm dripping from Carol's words, but the nerves in my belly were twisting far too much for that.

"It was awful!" Terri moaned through her crying, hiccuping once or twice.

"What happened, Terri?" Carol sounded much gentler now.

"Being a squirrel was bad enough. I thought it would be so fun and easy, but it was always so cold, and I could never find enough food. And the animals! There were always big, scary animals trying to eat me! An owl once snatched me in its talons. I thought I was done for, but the wind blew it off course and it flew into a tree branch and dropped me."

"And being obedient?"

"That was even worse! I made myself the young daughter of what seemed to be a nice couple that ran a bakery shop in Ayortha's royal city. I suppose they must have meant well, but they seemed so terrible! They were always telling me what to do, what to wear, where to go, what to eat. They made me eat broccoli, Carol. _Broccoli! _ I hate broccoli!" Terri was near hysterics at this point. "And they were so _dull_. They forced me to read parables after dinner every night, and then told me to think about the morality of them, so even my thoughts had to be obedient! And all this was brought upon by people who cared for and loved me! Imagine if I had encountered enemies who wished to do me harm; they could have told me to kill myself and I would have!"

"So I gather you will not be bestowing any more gifts, then?"

"Never again!" Terri was still crying, although she was starting to calm down. "I wish I could take them all back, every single one!"

My heart jumped. This was the moment. I took a deep breath and pulled back the curtains, revealing myself, though I knew Carol did not want me to.

"Please do, then."

* * *

><p>I matched Terri's gasp of surprise with one of my own. For this wasn't the beautiful, youthful faerie I remembered meeting at William and Emma's wedding, nor the one that rose into the sky and astonished the guests at Mother's own marriage celebration.<p>

Terri looked old and tired. Her skin had lost that unearthly glow, her hair no longer shone like the sun, and her eyes seemed listless and less startlingly blue, widened with shock though they were. Everything about her seemed dull and subdued. There were circles under her eyes and her nose seemed different, more like a bird's beak than it had before. This was Terri without the aid of magic to give her the illusion of supernatural beauty.

"Carol, who is this boy? Have you brought someone to spy on me?" She stood up a little straighter for a moment and sent Carol a glare, and I could almost see the magnificent being she once was, but then she sagged down again and eyed me blearily. "You look familiar, lad. I suppose you are one of my victims."

I was overcome with the reality of the situation. Freedom was so close that my fingertips itched to reach out and snatch it. It was all I could manage to nod slightly in confirmation.

Terri looked at me regretfully. "What did I do to you, sweet boy?" she whispered, her shoulders slumping even more.

"You made me obedient, ever since I was a newborn. And now you know what it is like."

"I do." Terri stared down at the wand of her hands. I thought my heart might beat right out of my chest. "But I've sworn never to do big magic again."

"But please," I begged, "It…it would be such a wonderful gift, truly a good gift. I would be so grateful if you could take it away, please…"

"Kurt," Carol warned softly.

"Perhaps just this once?" Terri looked at Carol beseechingly, her eyes filling with tears once more.

Carol sighed and looked away.

Terri glanced at me and then shook her head remorsefully, her now dry and frizzy hair fluttering around. "No, my dear child, I cannot. I musn't. Big magic has consequences none of us can truly foresee."

"Well, isn't it nice that you've finally figured that out," I snapped, turning away even as she reached for me, "though it is a little too late now, wouldn't you say?"

I expected her to grow angry with me, but Terri surprised me by circling around and kissing me on the forehead. "I remember you now. From the giants' wedding. But you spoke Ayorthan then." She looked at me fondly. "I cannot undo the spell. I am sorry. But if ever you need me for something small, just call on me for aid and I shall appear."

I stared at her in silent fury until she looked away in shame, her chin trembling. She disappeared with a pop, and I collapsed to the ground. Carol sat beside me.

"Why didn't you convince her?" I managed to croak, my throat already closing with tears.

"She was right. The magic is too big. Who knows what would have come of it?"

"Only good things. Only good could have come of it." I did not sob or cling to Carol, but hugged my knees to my chest and let the tears pour down my face silently. Eventually I stood up and stalked from the room, ignoring Carol's pleas for me to come back.

I would not be able to go to the balls. Sir Sandy and Dave and Finn would go. Finn would dance with Rachel, and perhaps they would see Santana and Quinn there. Dave would lord it over me and describe each night in lavish detail, just so I could have a clear picture of what I was missing. And Blaine…Blaine would surely meet young noblemen and even other royals from different lands. Handsome young men who would be free to pursue and be pursued, and who would make him forget all about me.

And I? I would be so lucky as to catch a glimpse of him on the streets of Frell. He would not recognize me from a distance, wearing rags for clothes and weighed down with groceries or linens, and he would never come close enough to see my face.

* * *

><p>One night, two miserable weeks later, I was flipping through my book, hoping for an illustration of Blaine's face, when I came upon words written in Ayorthan. Upon closer inspection, I realized that it was a diary entry of my friend from Dalton, Mercedes! I leaned close in the dim candlelight, eager to know something about her.<p>

_Mother's inn has never had such important guests before! Prince Blaine of Kyrria and his knights stayed here last night, and their arrival was a surprise to us all._

_Mother was so nervous that she curtsied herself right into an end table, and sent Grandmother's hand-painted vase to the floor, where it shattered into dozens of pieces. We were all crawling on the floor, Mother, Father, Alex, Shane, Matthew, and I, scrambling to pick up the pieces. It was so crowded, and I bumped into someone's shoulder. I turned to look, and it was none other than the prince, down on his hands and knees just like the rest of us, picking up shards of glass!_

_He insisted on paying for the vase, and ended up giving us far more than it was worth. Mother tried to protest, in her own hesitant way, but he told us that it was his fault for making her so nervous. And then he apologized for bumping into me! I could barely form words, I was so astonished. I fear I had a silly grin on my face the entire time. _

_(I must say, though, that his Ayorthan pronunciation is atrocious, even if he speaks our language fluently)._

_I managed to actually speak to him at dinner when he asked me to pass the ale. When I was at Dalton's Kurt told me he knew Prince Blaine, and I needed to know. I told him I had attended Dalton's when Kurt ran away, and I wondered if he knew if Kurt was safe._

_There was a strange sort of silence as he looked at me, but I could not tell what he was thinking. Then one of his knights spoke up. He said, "Kurt the ogre-tamer? Whatever became of him?"_

_The prince was quiet for so long that I began to worry I had offended him. But he wasn't angry; rather more subdued than he had been before._

"_You were friends with him? You liked him?" he asked me._

_I told him that Kurt had been my very best friend at Dalton's. I feared by his countenance that he would tell me Kurt had died or something, but he told me that Kurt has married a rich widow and is apparently doing quite well for himself. He said, "He must be happy, I think, with all that wealth."_

_I was so startled by this slight that I blurted out, "Kurt does not care about riches!" I sassed the Prince of Kyrria as he sat eating at Mother's table!_

_He asked me how I knew, so I told him that when we are at Dalton's, I did not have many friends, because of my accent and the color of my skin, and because I was not wealthy like most were. I told him that Kurt was the first person to be kind to me at deportment school, the first person to befriend me._

"_Perhaps he's changed," said the prince._

"_I don't think so, Your Highness," I contradicted him. I could not seem to stop sassing at him!_

_He was not angry with me, but I watched him for the rest of the night, and while he had joked and laughed with his group of knights before, after our conversation, he was silent and withdrawn._

_But Kurt is married! How can it be? Married to a rich, old woman? I wish I could talk to him and understand how this has all transpired. I wish I knew that he was faring well._

My chest ached at the thought of Mercedes, rising to my defense, even though she had not seen me in over two years. There was no illustration to accompany her journal entry, so I fell asleep trying to imagine her eyes full of fire as she sassed at Blaine, and trying to envision what expression Blaine wore when Mercedes contradicted his beliefs about me.

I woke up in the middle of night, sliding out of a dream of dancing with my arms around Blaine and his around me. I sat up and pulled open my faerie tale book, finding and reading over Mercedes's writing once more.

Thinking of Blaine traveling through Ayortha, on his way home to attend the fabulous balls held in honor of his return had ignited a fire in my heart. Why couldn't I attend? The balls were masquerades, so I could hide my face and soak in the sight of my beloved, if only from a distance.

I made up my mind and the next morning, I told Carol of my plan. I would wear a mask, even after other guests had taken theirs off, and I would wait until Sir Sandy and Dave and Finn had already departed. They would not recognize me at the ball in a mask and elegant clothes (they did not know that Carol and I had hidden away my favorite clothes and Father's old wardrobe), but I would avoid them just the same while I was there, especially Dave.

Carol gently asked me why I wanted to go and break my heart again. I told her it was still broken and would only mend at the sight of Blaine, only to break once more. Three masquerades, three times my heart would mend and break again.

Carol and I spent the next two weeks altering my old wardrobe, most of which were too short in the leg and a little too tight in the shoulders and chest, and working Father's clothes, most of which had come back into style, into my ensembles. Carol used small magic to make little alterations, and Brittany often sat around as I modeled pieces, telling me what she thought I looked most handsome in. She asked if I would design a dress for the wedding she planned to have with Santana one day, and hoped that Carol would oblige her to make it.

There were times during those two weeks, between my chores and costume planning and sleep, that I fantasized about arriving at the ball, a mysterious stranger that captivated the prince's heart and imagination at first glance. We would dance the night away and just as the clock struck twelve, our lips would meet –

But it was stupid to entertain such ridiculous notions. I would keep my distance from Blaine, admire him from afar. I would be invisible to him. Perhaps I would witness him falling in love with another man, or worse, choosing to marry a young lady because I had hardened his heart too much for him to even try to love again.

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter: Kurt attends the masquerades. Lots of stuff goes down.<strong>


	23. Chapter 23: The First Masquerade

**AN: Wow guys, sorry for the long wait! December is such a busy month for me! But thanks for all the reviews. Enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

><p>The night of the first ball arrived. Between working my fingers to the bone preparing Sir Sandy's extravagant outfit for the evening (a garish collection of bright pinks and mauves, with feathers everywhere) and Dave suddenly needing all of his shoes to be shined and Finn running to me for dancing advice every fifteen minutes so he wouldn't step on Rachel's dainty feet, I was already exhausted when the Ryerson carriage pulled away. I knew I would be late arriving, but did not mind, as it was better for me to slip in unnoticed once the festivities had started.<p>

Carol had clucked her tongue more than once at my wardrobe plans. "If the point is to fade into the background, sweet, then why are you making the most immaculate and noticeable clothing to wear? Shouldn't you dress in something more inconspicuous?" But this was my first ball, and I had always loved fashion. It was good luck that many of Father's old pieces were coming back into style again, so I was able to mix them with my old expensive clothes and create something new.

Carol and Brittany helped me dress for the evening. My outfit for the first ball was the color of cream from head to toe. Pristine trousers encased my legs, I wore a tight vest over my starched and pressed shirt, and a long-tailed jacket over that. Brittany had taken an old pair of Father's brown shoes and bleached them, so they more or less matched my ensemble.

Currently, I was vexed about the mask. It was a masquerade, and I needed to cover my face anyway, as there would be far too many people in attendance, especially Blaine, who I could not afford to have recognize me. The trouble was, the only mask Father had had, while a beautiful silky black, did not go with my outfit at all.

"Lovey, just wear the mask."

"I cannot!" I snapped, but then sent her an apologetic glance. The stress of the evening and the nerves fluttering in my stomach were making me petulant. "Carol," I wheedled, "can you not just conjure up a mask for me? That doesn't seem like very big magic. Something with a little flair."

"Kurt, you know I can't."

I sighed. "Fine, but I am going to look stupid." I made my way to the kitchen door and threw it open.

It was pouring rain outside.

"No!" I gasped, even as Brittany raced outside to dance in the steady stream of raindrops. "I don't have a carriage to take me, and I certainly cannot show up looking like a drowned cat. Carol, please, do something…"

Carol sighed and shook her head. "Kurt, I can't. Don't you think that by now, if I could do big magic, I would have done it for you a thousand times over?"

"Terri," I said.

"Yes, I know, if it wasn't for her this whole problem would not even _be_ a problem-"

"No," I interrupted Carol with a whisper, "Terri. She said if I ever needed anything, I could call on her."

"Kurt…" Carol looked at me sternly.

"Terri, I need your aid!" I called out to the ceiling, somehow knowing that was all that I needed to summon her.

Terri appeared with a pop in the kitchen, the faint scent of flowers accompanying her. She looked a little better than the last time I had seen her, though her luminescent beauty and youth were not completely restored. She looked around curiously.

"Carol! And my sweet lad! How can I help, dear?" She rushed forward to clutch my hands in her own, her eyes already wet with tears. I forced myself not to roll my own.

"Terri, I need to go to the palace ball, but it is raining so heavily and I have no transportation but my own two feet. Is there anything at all you can do?"

Terri looked out the window at the storm and frowned. "I cannot stop the rain; that magic would be far too big. But perhaps…what if I made you a carriage?" Her face lit up at the prospect, and I suspected that despite her newfound insights on spells, she very sorely missed doing extravagant magic.

"Terri," Carol said warningly.

"Oh, hush. It's not that big! How about this: I won't conjure the carriage from nothing. I'll use things here to make one! And it will not be permanent. Everything will return to its original form when the clock strikes midnight," she added, pointing a finger at me, "so you must keep track of the hour." I nodded quickly, in no mood to argue with her if she could get me to the palace.

Carol rolled her eyes as Terri went to the door and pointed her wand at the pumpkin patch outside. The largest of the pumpkins rolled forward of its own accord and trembled for a moment before starting to grow even larger. Its vines twisted and turned, forming wheels, and soon a beautiful, pale orange carriage stood right outside the door. She then twirled her wand at the barn in the distance, and moments later two of the Ryerson's older horses came trotting out and stopped dutifully by the carriage. "Hmm, and you'll need a driver, won't you?" Terri muttered, her usually airy voice taking on a suddenly very focused and fixated edge.

Before Carol and I could protest, she pointed her wand at Brittany, who disappeared from out in the rain and reappeared suddenly in the kitchen, dry and dressed in a coachman's uniform, her hair tucked neatly under a hat.

"Terri!" Carol hissed angrily.

Brittany looked down at her garb in surprise and felt the back of her head. "Oh! Carol, did you do this?"

Carol stared at her. "I-I don't know what you mean, sweet. Why would you think that?"

"Well, it's magic, right? And you're a faerie."

Carol, Terri, and I all gaped at Brittany.

"How did you know?" Carol managed to strangle out.

"Let me guess," I answered with a smile, "Lord Tubbington?"

Brittany smiled at me sweetly. She readily agreed to my request to drive me to the ball and ran out to hitch the horses to the carriage.

"That's it, then!" Terri cried happily.

"Well," I hesitated.

"Oh, go on, then while you two are at it," Carol said with a dismissive wave of her hand. I clapped and told Terri of my mask and how I needed one that matched my ensemble. She smiled wordlessly and tapped her wand to my nose. I looked in the reflection of the glass in the window.

My mask was cream-colored like the rest of my outfit, but it was adorned with beautiful, looping tassels of braided gold.

"It is perfect, Terri, thank you."

"Anything for you!" She gasped, seemingly overcome with emotion again. She bent down, kissed my hands and told me never to hesitate to call for further aid, and vanished.

* * *

><p>My stomach clenched as the carriage drew to a halt and I could hear Brittany's footsteps drawing closer. I took a deep breath as she swung the door open and stepped out.<p>

"Do you know, is Santana here?" Brittany asked excitedly. "Maybe I should go find her."

My eyes widened. "Oh, Brittany, I do not think that is a good idea. No one can know we're here, and Dave or Papa Sandy might recognize you." I felt terrible as her face fell. "Well, perhaps it will be safe enough on the eve of the last ball. If I see her two nights from now, I will tell her she is wanted outside and she can come find you."

"Oh, Kurt! Thank you," Brittany sang, throwing her arms around my neck. "Tell her the word 'songbird' so she will know it is me."

"I will," I promised, "but not tonight. It is too risky. And remember, we must leave before midnight, when Terri's magic will fade."

"Good luck," Brittany told me, kissing my cheek, "You look like a delicious cream puff."

"…thank you?"

I squared my shoulders as Brittany leapt back up onto the seat at the front of the carriage snapped the reigns, letting the horses follow the path a servant had indicated for carriages. I lifted my chin and walked up the grand staircase and into King Andrew's palace.

I had arrived late enough that almost all the guests were already in attendance, and I could slip in unnoticed. I wandered among the masked gentleman, who were mostly dressed in black and grey, and the dainty ladies in pastel gowns, many of whom held their masks to their faces by long stems. I spotted Finn and Rachel, easily distinguishable by their drastic difference in height, laughing and dancing merrily, so I rushed away before they could set eyes on me.

I weaved among some guests to a less populated area to catch my breath, and then I saw him.

Blaine.

I forgot how to breathe for a moment, feasting my eyes on my love. His hair was shorter than I had ever seen it, curls slicked down with oils. He was adorned in navy trimmed with cherry red, the official colors of the kingdom of Kyrria. My eyes swept over his broad shoulders, slim waist and hips, admiring the way his trousers showed off the muscles in his legs. He wore no mask to hide his thick eyebrows, strong jaw, and aristocratic nose. Oh, and his smile. It was still there, stretched wide, infectious as he laughed. I felt a burst of jealousy, as I had always loved to make him laugh, and that spark of jealousy quickly blew up into a blaze as I finally took my eyes from Blaine and focused on the companion who had inspired his laughter.

He was a tall, slender young man with fair skin and brown hair. I did not like his face, though most would probably consider it handsome enough. He looked like a rodent. I disliked him immediately, hated how close he stood to Blaine, the way he looked at him possessively. My eyes widened as he placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder and Blaine subtly moved to break the contact, ever polite. Was it possible he was making my love uncomfortable? I felt a sudden, intense desire to walk over to them and demonstrate some of what I had learned during Combat Lessons at Dalton.

Instead, I sat staring at the pair, feeling my heart breaking over and over at the sight of Blaine with another man.

"Excuse me," someone said, tapping me on the shoulder. I whirled around, alarmed at having been noticed.

A beautiful Ayorthan man with skin the color of toffee was smiling at me.

"Yes?" I said nervously.

"Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Sir Anthony of Ayortha. I was wondering if you would care to dance."

"Me?" I squeaked, "But…you're a man. And I'm a…"

"Man," the Ayorthan man finished with a teasing grin. "Yes, I know. That's why I'm asking you."

I stared at him, flabbergasted and then looked out on the dance floor. To my pleasant surprise, there were a handful of dancing partners that were the same sex.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I…" I stuttered, unsure of what to do.

"I apologize," Sir Anthony said with a frown, "I just thought, with your stunning outfit, that…but I shouldn't have assumed."

"No! I mean, that isn't it…I am, um, gay. I just…" My eyes drifted over to Blaine again and my shoulders sagged at the sight of his handsome face turned up towards his companion.

I didn't notice Sir Anthony had followed my gaze until he spoke again. "Ah. Have your sights set on the prince, do you? I wouldn't bother. His heart belongs to another. Though if anyone were able to tempt him away," he continued, smiling at me again, "it would be someone as alluring as you, I am sure."

I couldn't tell if he was teasing me, but I didn't care. "H-he has a lover? Do you know who?"

"The prince's love remains a mystery at the moment. Most believe it is someone he met during his travels in my country."

My pain was so great that I could not look at Blaine a moment longer. It felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest. I wrenched my gaze back to Sir Anthony. "Do you know the gentleman he is conversing with?"

"That is Count Sebastian. He's a….an ambitious fellow, to say the least."

I narrowed my eyes at what Sir Anthony was telling me. So this Sebastian character was flirting with Blaine because he was a social climber who planned to use him. I turned to glare at him in fury.

"I see you're quite set on the prince for tonight," Sir Anthony observed regretfully, "I shall leave you to your observations. Unless you've changed your mind about the dance?"

"I am truly sorry," I told him, not able to completely take my eyes off of Blaine and Sebastian now that a surge of protectiveness had risen up to wash away my heart break.

I watched Blaine and Sebastian speak for a few minutes more, until Blaine clapped Sebastian lightly on the shoulder and Sebastian took his leave, bowing over Blaine's hand while Blaine looked around awkwardly. Suddenly, Blaine glanced up and looked at me. I jumped slightly and quickly tried to look preoccupied by inspecting the dark blue velvet of the draperies I was standing next to.

I could see him approaching out of the corner of my eye and fought desperately to hide the shaking of my hands.

"Hello."

I froze at the sound of his voice. Rich, deeper than ever, smooth as the velvet my fingertips coasted over. It took all I had not to throw myself into his arms and beg him to speak into my ear with that voice for the rest of forever. Instead I turned to face him and bowed deeply. "Prince Blaine," I greeted him, lowering my voice and adopting a thick Ayorthan accent.

As I met his eyes, I saw the surprise on his face. "Your accent is Ayorthan! Forgive me; may I enquire after your name? I thought I knew all the courtiers in Kyrria and Ayortha." He regarded me with a kind smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

"My name is Christopher of Ayortha, Your Highness. I believe I have been traveling through Kyrria during your stay in my country, so we have not been introduced." I told him the same story that I had told Terri at William and Emma's wedding: that I was an orphan who had been adopted into an Ayorthan family during my infancy.

"Well, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Christopher."

"And I, yours," I replied faintly, remembering myself despite the surreality of my current situation and bowing over his hand. My breath caught in my throat at the shock that ran through my arm when I gripped his hand in my own, and I thought for a moment that he started at the contact as well.

"Oh, please, none of that. It makes me feel so pompous," he protested, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder and gesturing for me to straighten up.

"I apologize," I said, letting go of his hand and immediately missing the warmth of his touch.

His brow furrowed. "You surprise me. Most courtiers insist on the formality, despite my preference."

"Well, I'm often told I am quite uncouth," I quipped without thinking. This earned me a chuckle and a curious look. I cursed myself in my head. I needed to be more careful! I needed to be Christopher, not Kurt, but I had neglected to put much thought into this fake personality.

"May I ask what you are doing over here by yourself?" Blaine inquired.

"I've been admiring the splendor," I told him, failing to mention that I thought him more splendid to behold than the opulent wealth of the palace. He nodded politely. "These draperies are very fine," I began to babble, "and I've never seen chandeliers so grand…"

As I prattled on about our surroundings, I noticed that he fixed a polite smile in place, but his eyes wandered out over the crowd every so often. I panicked. It was obvious he was losing interest in speaking with me. Was he looking for his secret lover? The thought felt like a dagger in my chest. I knew I should continue to bore him until he lost interest and left to attend his guests, but I was addicted. Being back in my love's presence, looking at him, sharing words, and even the slightest of touches…now that I was here, I had no idea how I would let him go again.

"And the banisters!" I yelped when I heard him awkwardly clear his throat, struggling to keep my voice lower than usual. "They are magnificent. I imagine they must be very good for sliding."

Blaine's eyes lit up. "Do you slide down the banisters at your family's estate?" He asked eagerly.

"No, Your Highness," I told him firmly, trying to find a balance between being myself enough to keep him engaged and yet not enough to raise his suspicions. "I have a fear of heights."

"That is unfortunate," he said, offering me his polite smile again. I decided to label it his "royal" smile, as it never could seem to reach his eyes.

Again, I could not resist. "It plagues me worse than ever these days," I told him, and he nodded, royal smile still fixed in place, "…as I've grown taller."

Blaine let out a shout of laughter, and this time it reached his eyes, lighting them up with warmth and mischief. He seemed startled at the sound of his own laughter, as though it was foreign to his ears. "That would be a problem!" he exclaimed looking up to the top of my head. It was only then that I realized I had grown taller than Blaine! Only by an inch or so, but still! I wondered why I had not noticed earlier, and decided it was because Blaine's grand character made him seem taller than he truly was.

"You're quite funny," he told me.

"Thank you, Prince Blaine."

He looked out at the crowd of dancers for a moment and then back at me. "Christopher, would you honor me with a dance?"

I felt myself blushing, thinking back to Mother's wedding and the night Blaine and I had spent dancing in the old palace, how close we had come to kissing. "I…pardon me, I…"

"Forgive me," he said quickly, "I suppose I should have asked if you were gay as well first."

I stared at him in shock. The last time we spoke, only Blaine's father and his Warblers knew of his preferences.

He chuckled at my wide eyes. "You haven't heard? It has been the talk of the courts in both Kyrria and Ayortha for months now. Yes, I am gay. My father has been correcting our laws here in Kyrria to make gay marriage legal. The changes should be finalized within the next month. It's an exciting time," he informed me proudly.

"I…yes, indeed. But…oh, I mean I am gay, too," I stuttered, trying to find a reason to decline his invitation to dance without hurting him. Dancing in the middle of the ballroom with the Prince of Kyrria would draw far too much attention. "But…I haven't told anyone yet."

His expression sobered. "Oh, I understand completely. I apologize."

"Forgive me. I would like to, but-"

"No, no, there is nothing to forgive," he assured me. He paused for a moment, thinking. "Will you come with me?"

"I…yes," I told him. I could not deny him anything, it seemed. This was a dangerous game I was playing. At any moment Blaine could tell me to do something that would inadvertently cause me to reveal my identity. Still, I walked beside him as he showed me out into the hall and took me to a small room off to the side, shutting the door behind us.

"Can you dance here?" he asked, winking at me.

My head was reeling from the memories of our night together during Mother's wedding. I did not know why I insisted on torturing myself by placing my hand in his, allowing him to draw me into a waltz position. "The walls are too thick; we can't hear the music," I said softly.

"Then we shall make our own," he said, smiling, "do you sing?"

How I longed to join our voices together in song again after all this time! "…no," I told him regretfully.

"No matter; I shall provide the music," he assured me, and began to hum a gentle tune.

I never wanted to leave Blaine's embrace again. I wanted to stay here forever, just as we were, moving together to the rich sound of Blaine's voice. But after our second dance, I asked him for the time.

"It's ten minutes to midnight."

Nearly midnight! I needed to leave! When the clock struck twelve, my mask would disappear right off my face!

"I am sorry, Your Highness; I must go," I told him hastily, stepping out of his arms.

"Of course," he said, confusion written all over his face, "Will you be attending tomorrow's masquerade?"

"I-I don't know," I told him in a rush, bowing hastily before I pulled open the door and fled, calling out one last apology.

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><p>Brittany and I had just barely made it out the palace gates and turned down a quiet lane when the carriage transformed back into a pumpkin and splattered the road as it fell to the ground, taking us along with it. We rode the horses back to Ryerson manor, taking it slow and easy on the poor old things. Brittany chattered happily about all the friends she had made when she had snuck into the stables and introduced herself to the other horses. I listened with half an ear, too filled with turmoil to really pay attention.<p>

I knew, logically, that I should not go back again. I had broken every rule! I had spoken with Blaine, I had acted too much like myself, and I had _danced_ with him! Clearly, I had no self-control when it came to the man I loved. It went against every ounce of reason and rationality to return for a second night.

But I thought of his face, his eyes, his arms around me, the sound of him singing, and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I would not be able to stay away.

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><p><strong>Next chapter: Tune in to see! <strong>

**Only a couple chapters left to go now!**


	24. Chapter 24: The Second Masquerade

**A/N: Sorry for the wait folks! These last few chapters are proving difficult to crank out. But here it is :) Thanks for the reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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><p>I was already in bed and half asleep when Sir Sandy poked me awake. Apparently, he wanted to converse with me and rub the grand time he had at the ball in my face.<p>

"It is a pity you will never experience anything so grand, boy," he sighed, sniffing the air and smoothing the pleats of his ridiculous ensemble. "Everyone who is anyone was there – except for my dear love, of course. I suppose it is best you weren't there; I'm sure you would have made a fool of yourself in one way another. Anyway, my outfit did not draw nearly enough compliments as it deserved, so you must work extra hard to put the final details on tomorrow night's costume. And the prince! Oh, the prince looked positively edible," Sir Sandy prattled on, filling me in on gossip I already knew: the prince, it turned out, preferred the company of men, and at one point he had disappeared with a mysterious masked stranger, whom not even the biggest gossips could seem to place. I rolled my eyes at his boasting, as if he were lording it all over my head and reveling in the misery he thought he was causing.

Sir Sandy was not the source of my misery. No, I was in anguish with the knowledge that in two days, Blaine would be gone from my life, probably forever. My pain was rivaled only by the nervous elation I felt at the thought of seeing him again.

I woke up earlier than usual the following morning to finish all my chores as quickly as I could, telling Finn he would have to help me fold laundry if he wanted me to listen to his stories of his first ball with Rachel (which largely consisted of fetching her champagne and diligently trying to heed her instructions on how to dance properly), and avoiding Dave and Sir Sandy as best I could (to prevent further orders and more chores), so that I would be ready to go to the ball that much sooner that evening.

I noted, as the Ryerson carriage departed for the palace, that it was raining once more. I knew Carol would not approve, but I made up my mind to summon Terri once again.

Carol and Brittany helped me dress in a silver ensemble: tight breeches and an oversize tunic that fell well past my hips, complete with a pair of silver shoes that I had once begged Father to purchase for himself when I was a young boy. I used to beam with delight whenever he would wear them, usually on private special occasions like mine or Carol's birthday.

Carol was looking at me suspiciously throughout the dressing, and I knew she knew I planned to call on Terri.

"Kurt-" she began, once I had made the last adjustments on my outfit.

"Unless you can do something about this rain, I'm going to call her," I told Carol, my voice laced with faux-sweetness.

She sighed and waved her hand in defeat.

"Terri, I need your aid," I spoke to the ceiling in a clear voice.

Brittany clapped her hands, delighted, as the room filled with the scent of roses, and Terri appeared with a little flash. Carol glared at her warningly, and I suspected she was beginning to use too much flair in her magic once more.

Terri looked overjoyed to see me. "Did you have a wonderful evening then? Oh, I'm so glad," she exclaimed, not bothering to wait for my answer.

"Hello, Terri. As you can see, it is raining again this evening, so I was wondering if you might-"

"Don't say another word!" She flung her arms out dramatically, brandishing her wand. Soon, the pale orange carriage, two horses, and Brittany, clad in a driver's uniform, were waiting while Terri cast one last spell.

She touched her wand to my face and a new mask appeared. This one was silver, to match my outfit, but encrusted with tiny diamonds and blue-grey gems.

"Do you not think that it is a bit much?" Carol asked, her arms folded grumpily.

"Nonsense! What is the point of a ball if not to look your very finest?" Terri twittered, causing Carol's mouth to pull into a frown.

"All will be well, Carol," I tried to soothe her, despite my own conflicting feelings, "Blaine has already spoken to me; I'm sure a few jewels will not make a difference."

"Just be careful," Carol chided me, "not only with your heart, but with your life and that of the one you love."

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><p>As I was arriving earlier than the night before, I had to be cleverer about entering the castle. I could not go through the main doors, as I would be announced to the room, so I went with Brittany to where the carriages were parked and slipped in through a servant's entrance. All of them were busy attending to carriages and horses or running food and drink inside the main hall.<p>

I slipped inside the ballroom, ducking behind a crowd of young ladies when I spotted Sir Sandy and Dave sitting nearby. I weaved through the many courtiers and knights, and made my way to the same place I had seen Blaine the night before. I could make out where he was greeting guests, quite far away, the King and Queen sitting on their thrones and watching over him.

I spent a quarter hour drinking in the sight of him, craning my neck to see past mingling guests. He still had his hair slicked back, still wore the official colors of Kyrria, although this time with red featuring more prominently, with hints of dark blue. As I looked at him gloomily, Blaine suddenly excused himself and exited through a side door.

Where had he gone? I spent a few minutes watching the door and scanning the crowd in case he had re-entered the room from some other location, and then resigned myself to fiddling with a napkin on the table in front of me.

"Admiring the tablecloths this time?" A voice said from behind me, sounding faintly amused. I started and the stood up to turn and bow to Blaine.

"Well, they are such a lovely shade of blue, Your Highness," I quipped, "the official blue of Kyrria, if I'm not mistaken. And I see you are wearing the royal colors again tonight, as well."

Blaine smiled bashfully and glanced down at his body, taking my eyes with his. "I suppose you think my choice boring and repetitive."

"Not at all. The colors become you," I breathed, staring at his lean form draped in fine clothing, and then almost squeaked as he raised an eyebrow at me with a smirk. "I-I mean, of course the colors of Kyrria would suit her future king."

"Well, thank you. That is very kind," he replied, his smirk melting into a smile, "but of course anyone would pale next to you in that outfit," he added, gesturing to my silver ensemble.

"Thank you, Your Highness," I blushed at his compliment, but then frowned. "Oh dear; it stands out too much, doesn't it?" I worried, running my hands over the fabric.

Blaine leaned his hip against the edge of the table, crossing his arms and looking amused. His eyes ran up and down my body and I suddenly felt very warm. "I think you are bound to stand out, no matter what you wear."

It occurred to me suddenly that Blaine was flirting with me. When had he learned these skills? Had he had a lot of practice on swarthy young Ayorthan lords? I had had no such opportunities to sharpen my flirting skills, and my eloquence and daring on paper were failing me now, face to face with my love who thought I was someone else. I was positive my face was beet red, despite my pale complexion, and for once I had no witty reply, which was just as well, as I was supposed to be Christopher, not Kurt.

"…I…"

Blaine frowned at my silence. "I apologize. I have no wish to make you feel uncomfortable."

"No, it is fine," I babbled, "I just haven't much experience in the art of flirtation…I-I mean," My eyes widened as I realized what I had just said out loud, "Not that I think you were flirting with me…"

But Blaine just laughed in delight. "It is quite alright. And I was flirting with you," he added, winking at me.

"Well, I shall try to keep up," I found my wits despite my flushed cheeks.

Blaine smiled at me and extended his hand. "Would you care to dance?"

I glanced out over the crowd. "In the other room again?"

"Perhaps not quite so far away," Blaine teased, "I do need to be attentive to my guests. Perhaps out in the corridor?"

I felt hesitant but my hand was already rising to slip into his, despite my better judgment. "Someone might see."

"You can tell them the odious, overbearing prince ordered you grant him a waltz," Blaine told me.

I quirked an eyebrow. "Are you ordering me?"

"Certainly not," he replied as his hand closed around mine, "but it appears as though my charm has compelled you nonetheless."

I smirked at him, tugging my hand back a little. "Your charm? Is that what you call it?" I brought my hand up over my mouth in surprise. I had completely forgotten myself, or rather, I had forgotten Christopher, who had only met Blaine yesterday and should not have spoken to the Prince of Kyrria so casually. "Forgive me; I-"

"Please, I wish you wouldn't apologize for being yourself. I promise I'm not so arrogant that I cannot handle a little jesting," Blaine said, his eyes kind and earnest and searching mine beneath my mask as he reached for my hand once more.

A few minutes later, we were in the hall, trying to keep our laughter quiet as we swept through the steps of a promenade, ignoring the looks of the guards stationed there.

When we were breathless and sweating, Blaine excused himself apologetically to attend to his guests. I slipped back to my table and watched forlornly as he twirled a blushing Rachel in his arms, beaming down at her with genuine affection, and with jealousy as he shared a dance with that smirking cad Lord Sebastian, whom I did not trust one bit. I tried not to think of how truly pathetic I looked sitting on my own at an empty table.

He soon returned to me, however, and we sat talking. I could not get enough of his smooth, rich voice, could not stop drinking in the sight of my beloved. I tried to remember to be Christopher, but it was so difficult when it was so natural to be me in his presence. I longed to snatch off my mask and hold his face in my hands and confess my love, or fall to his feet and beg forgiveness for ever hurting him. I also ached to ask him about his secret lover, but it was not my place to do so, and I knew my heart would sear with pain to hear details of Blaine's love for another man. Still, it came to a point in our conversation (Blaine complimenting me on Ayortha's forward-thinking and acceptance of gay people) where I could not hold it in any longer and simply blurted it out.

"There are rumors that you have a secret Ayorthan lover," I said suddenly, before I could stop myself.

Blaine stopped in the middle of his sentence and stared at me in surprise.

"I mean…I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness; it is not my place to know of such things," I rushed to say, blushing furiously.

Blaine laughed awkwardly. "Well, if I have such a lover, this is the first I've heard of him! Wherever did you hear such a thing?"

"It is just court gossip, Prince Blaine, I assure you. Some…some people thought you were acting rather lovesick during your travels back to Kyrria and guessed that you had met a lover along the way."

"Oh!" Now Blaine's face was turning red. "No, I…I've just been…out of sorts for some time now." He looked up at me at shook his head a little. "But what kind of host am I being? I shall not bore you with the details of my time in Ayortha."

"They wouldn't bore me," I protested, but he smiled tightly.

"Shall we dance again?"

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><p>I managed to make my leave at a timelier hour, having spent half the night conversing and dancing with Blaine and the other half watching him converse and dance with his other guests. Though I much preferred the former activities, I did not truly mind watching him interact with others (as long as that horrid Sebastian stayed away). It was clear that Blaine was destined to be a great king; he was courteous and mannerly, but also personable and charming. Ladies swooned, men clamored for his approval (and a fair few men swooned as well).<p>

Brittany and I made it half way back to Ryerson estate before the carriage transformed into a pumpkin again and broke against the ground. Luckily, we were both already riding the horses and did not gain any new bruises. Once we arrived home, we bade each other good night, and Brittany eagerly reminded me that I was to tell Santana to find her lover on the night of the last ball.

In my room, I flipped open my faerie tale book by candlelight. There was an entry in Blaine's journal.

_Christopher intrigues me so. __I thought that after Kurt-_

__(He had scratched out the sentence with my name and started again. I wondered at it. Did he still hate me so? The thought pained me deeply, but he had confessed to me that he was one to bear a grudge.)

_I thought I would feel no strong interest in a man any time soon, but he makes me laugh, and what I can see of him is quite attractive. Father is quite insistent that I find a royal consort at one of these balls. I know Sebastian is angling for a crown, but his dogged persistence is rather off-putting and alarming, rather than endearing. He seems fake to me, and I have no desire to live a life with a liar. __I've already learned that lesson._

_But Christopher…for all that he wears a mask, he is one of the most genuine people I've met at these events. I think he purposely reveals little of himself because he does not want me to know, which I do prefer to outright lies or beguilement. I am interested to know why he says so little. But I have fun with him; I can laugh, smile, be silly. It's remarkable how easy it is to relax around him._

_The mask. I wonder why he hides? He cannot possibly think me so shallow as to turn him away at the sight of his face, which is probably as fair as the rest of him, in any case. Perhaps he is a wanted thief in Ayortha, and were I to see his face, I would recognize him. Or perhaps he has an ugly scar that the mask covers up. Whatever it is, I wish he would remove it. I would not care about the scar, and I would find a way to exonerate him of his crimes, were they not too serious (and repay those he stole from)._

_I feel something for him. It is not love, but I like him well enough. I wonder if that would suffice for a life companion._

Sir Sandy did not prod me awake that night, and the next morning, Carole told me that two servants had had to carry him into the house, unconscious from too much drink.

Finn was my new source of gossip.

"Rachel danced with the prince," he informed me obliviously, "I'm glad he's…you know, um, like you. In that…he does not…"

"I know what you mean, Finn," I interrupted him, rolling my eyes as I affixed a large orange flower to Sir Sandy's latest ensemble. It would clash horribly with the purple satin.

"Right. Well, just, because Rachel is so pretty, and they seemed to really like each other. So I'm glad…"

"Glad the dashing prince has no designs on stealing your lady away with promises of wealth and fame and power?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Kurt; you were sort of a friend of the prince's once, right?"

"It is no matter," I told him, accidentally poking my finger with a needle. I sucked away the blood as he continued.

"Well, anyway, he spent half the night with this one mysterious stranger, dressed all in silver and wearing a mask. Rachel was dying to know who he was. In fact, everyone was dying to know. Some people think he is the prince's secret Ayorthan lover, but that doesn't make sense. He's awfully pale. He does not look Ayorthan."

I stared at Finn in amazement. "And you have no issue with pondering the idea of our prince taking another man to bed?"

Finn frowned at me in confusion, his dopey brown eyes looking a little hurt. "No. Why would I? And as I said, I do not think the man in silver is his secret lover, if he has one at all."

"Goodness, Finn," I exclaimed, raising an eyebrow, "you've certainly changed since I met you."

He blushed. "Yes, well. Rachel…has told me some things. About…life. You know, you really should try speaking with her again. I never understood why you two stopped being friends. I know she would love to see you. I could bring her here tomorrow, and – "

"Enough, Finn," I said sourly, ignoring the painful squeeze of my heart. "I doubt you would like her to discover the way your family treats me, anyway," I snapped, dropping Sir Sandy's outfit on the table and stalking out of the room, ignoring his apologetic calls.

I knew I was being harsh, but I hated when he brought Rachel up. I was still forbidden to be her friend. And thinking of never seeing her again only made me think of Blaine, and how I would never see him again after that very night. Terri could not lift the curse, and no one knew how else to break it. I was resigned to my lot in life, servant of the Ryerson's, to be ordered about by Sir Sandy and Dave for the rest of my days. My only source of comfort was the thought of seeing Blaine just one last time.

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><p><strong>Next chapter: The final masquerade!<strong>


	25. Chapter 25: The Final Masquerade

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone! Only one chapter left, and an epilogue :)**

**Disclaimer: Glee and Ella Enchanted are not mine.**

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><p>As the Ryerson carriage departed for the final ball, I stared up at the clear, blue sky. There would be no need for Terri tonight.<p>

"Kurt, will you still let me go with you tonight?" Brittany asked, a pout on her lips. "I really want to see Santana. And I can protect you from bandits hiding in the forest."

"Of course, Britt," I told her, and she jumped at me to give me a hug. I patted her back fondly. "Now there's no time to lose. We must get ready. I've saved the best outfit for last, and we'll find something pretty for you to wear, too."

We stole one of Mother's old dresses from her giant wardrobe. It was a delicate shade of blue that brought out Brittany's eyes. I made some quick adjustments (with the aid of some small magic from Carol), and helped Brittany weave bright blue ribbons into her golden hair.

Carol and I had planned my favorite outfit for the last ball. Carol had found a dark green kilt that Father used to wear to weddings; kilts had gone out of fashion, but were very recently coming back in style. I had altered a black waistcoat that used to fall to my hips. Now, it rested against my waist so that I could show off the kilt. I had Father's black silk mask to cover my face, and tight black breeches to wear under the kilt.

"I don't like these," I told Carol forlornly, holding up a pair of worn leather shoes.

"What about these ones?" Brittany asked. "I found them under your bed."

She held up the strange glass shoes Blaine and I had found in the old castle. Carol gasped and took them. "Faerie-made! Wherever did you find these, Kurt?"

"Blaine and I found them," I told her quietly, "in his father's room in the old castle. I put them on. I didn't think they would fit, but it was like they were made for my feet."

She nodded knowingly. "'Tis the drop of Faerie blood in you. Those shoes will fit no other feet for as long as you live."

"What if Blaine recognizes them?" I worried.

"The rest of you is too pretty," Brittany piped up. "He won't be looking at your feet."

While Brittany fetched the horses, I slipped the shoes on and Carol tied on my mask. She kissed the tip of my nose.

"You look perfect, lovey," she said, beaming at me with watery eyes. "See? There's no need for Terri. You're magic all on your own."

We kissed Carol goodbye in were on our way for the last time. With every bounce in my horse's trot, butterflies danced in my belly.

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><p>I stood in my usual part of the ballroom, looking out over the crowds, trying to spot Santana while I made sure Dave, Finn, Rachel, and Sir Sandy were still occupied.<p>

Blaine was still greeting guests when I saw Santana, dressed in emerald green and flirting with a couple handsome young men. She held a sparkling gold mask to her face, but I could it was she all the same. Her smirk gave her away. I strode up to them.

"Excuse me," I said, interrupting one of the young gallants. "Will you honor me with a dance?" I asked, extending my hand.

Santana's eyes flicked up and down my form. She pursed her lips at my kilt as one of the men snickered, but she placed her hand in mine and let me lead her away.

"Sorry, boys," she called out over her shoulder mockingly, "I'm trading up."

The orchestra began a waltz, and I was glad for it. I pulled her close and whispered in her ear: "A songbird is waiting for you in the stables. After this dance, I suggest you go listen to her sing."

She stiffened in my arms but then nodded quickly. When the last strains of the waltz ended, we pulled a part. She curtsied wordlessly and I kissed her knuckles. She offered me a genuine smile, which looked very lovely, and rushed away.

I glanced around and saw Finn and Rachel staring at me. Rachel was standing on her toes so she could whisper in Finn's ear. I quickly turned around and stalked back to my designated corner of the grand ballroom.

Blaine was there, and he appeared to be looking around.

"Oh!" he said when he spotted me, smiling wide. He looked so very handsome, and appeared to have left the traditional Dalton colors behind, instead wearing a very fine suit in the deepest of purples. The shade looked lovely against his tan complexion.

"Your Highness," I said, bowing.

"Christopher," he replied, returning the bow. He reached forward and clasped my hand. "I should like it if you would call me Blaine."

My mouth fell open a little, but I quickly collected myself. "I would be delighted…Blaine. Were you looking for me?" I asked with a teasing smirk.

His cheeks colored a little but he did not look away. "Yes, I was. I enjoy spending time with you. I was wondering if you might like to take a walk with me."

"Certainly."

He didn't let my hand go as he led me away.

"I must tell you that you look magnificent. I'm told kilts are slowly coming back into fashion, but not everyone can wear the look so well," Blaine said once we had left the room, stopping to look me over. I grew very warm as his eyes wandered over my frame.

"Thank you. And I see you've abandoned the official Kyrrian colors for the night."

"Yes, well, I thought I'd surprise people. What do you think?" he asked with a grin, smoothing a hand down his lapel.

"I think it a very unfair suit," I told him impishly, but bit my lip when his eyes darkened. I scolded myself internally. I was far too much myself around him.

We wandered throughout the corridors of the palace, talking about music and art and Ayorthan and Kyrrian politics. Blaine was elated that his father had finally made marriage legal for gay people in Kyrria.

"We've been so behind the times here. Why, I used to know this boy whose mother was a working woman, and his acquaintances would tease him-" Blaine stopped short and looked away. I felt like crying, knowing he had been talking and Mother and I, knowing that he was thinking of me with that pained expression on his face.

"Blaine? Are you well?" I asked tentatively, touching my hand to his elbow.

"Yes. I am sorry. Christopher," he said suddenly, looking back at me, "why is it that you wear a mask?"

"Well, it is a masquerade," I tittered nervously.

"Yes, I know. But it is custom to take the mask off at some point in the night. I wish I could see your face."

He brought a hand up and skimmed the lower edge of my mask with his fingers. I shivered as he brushed the skin of my cheek and shied away.

"I have no wish to remove my mask," I told him anxiously. "Please do not order me to."

He looked startled, drawing his hand away. "No, no…I would not do such a thing. I was much too forward. Forgive me."

"I forgive you," I obeyed his command immediately, "I mean…it is no matter."

"Good," he said, regaining his cheer, "I like you well enough with the mask on, anyway. Come, I would like to introduce you to someone."

He took my hand and began to run down the hall. I felt my nerves melt away as we ran, hearing the thud of our footprints marking out a beat together, feeling his warm palm against my own.

Those nerves came rushing back when we re-entered the ballroom on the other side, and he began leading me to where the King and Queen sat, presiding over the festivities. I began to pull away.

"Your par- the King and Queen, Your Highness? I mean, Blaine? No, no I cannot!" There was a lump in my throat and I fought against tears. He intended to introduce me to his parents? Was he really considering Christopher as a viable candidate for his royal consort? I was doing it to him again, and I would only hurt him again. I was selfish and stupid. I was only supposed to look at him afar, but I could not resist speaking or dancing to him. Then I was supposed to be a mysterious stranger, but I could not resist spending more time with him and getting to know him all over again. Now, I was supposed to be the intriguing Christopher who disappeared from his life after the last ball, and he wanted to introduce me to his family. To the royal family!

Blaine turned and held my hands in his own. "Please? I promise they are not as scary as they look."

I looked at his pleading face, those beautiful honey eyes, big and wide, and knew I could deny him nothing. I was powerless to resist him, and he did not have to give me a single order.

"Very well," I sighed. I kept my eyes fixed on our joined hands as he led me forward. Blaine's hand around mine was my anchor, the only thing keeping me from losing my head and running out of the room in hysterics. When he squeezed my hand, I looked up. The king looked much like his son, only harder and wearier. Blaine's mother, whom I had never seen before, was of mixed descent. Her mother had been from the far Eastern lands, and her heritage showed in her almond-shaped eyes and tiny frame. She was very beautiful, with a soft smile and thick, dark curls piled high on her head.

"Mother, Father, may I present to you, Christopher of Ayortha. Christopher, may I introduce to you my parents, Queen Evelyn and King Andrew of Kyrria."

I swept into my most graceful bow. "I am honored, Your Majesties," I said, my cheeks coloring as I noticed King Andrew frowning at my mask. I knew he disapproved of my rudeness. It was indeed quite disrespectful to keep my face hidden from the king of a nation.

"So this is the Christopher you have spoken of so highly, Blaine," his mother noted, a teasing smile playing on her lips, "I assume he is as becoming in character as he is in appearance if he has held my son's interest above all others."

I glanced at Blaine. His neck was flushed. "Mother," he said warningly, and I wondered what he had told his parents of Christopher.

"I do not understand how you know him to be fair, dear," the king said gruffly, giving me a once over, "as you cannot see his face."

I blushed, touching my mask. "Forgive me, I-"

"No," Blaine said, fixing his father with a look, "he's simply being protective."

"Christopher, do tell us what you think of King Andrew's recent changes to Kyrrian law," Queen Evelyn made to change the topic of conversation.

"I…I think it a very admirable decision. I know some may protest it, but I think it will make many people happy."

King Andrew studied me silently, and then gave a short nod. Blaine grinned, and his mother smiled in approval.

"Well, then, Christopher, would you honor me with a dance?" Blaine asked, extending his hand.

"Yes, thank you."

I bowed once more and we took our leave. Blaine led me to the dance floor. I stopped and tugged on his arm.

"Just…can we dance here? I cannot brave the middle of the room." I glanced about, but I could not see anyone I knew.

"Of course." Blaine pulled me into his arms and we moved to a soft, mournful tune. "You're trembling," he said, frowning with concern.

"I apologize if I embarrassed you in front of your parents," I said. I needed to leave. I knew it was the right thing to do, to leave forever before we both fell any further, but the feeling of Blaine's arms around me made me irresponsible.

"Not at all," Blaine assured me, "my father is just…suspicious. He has been ever since I…trusted someone I shouldn't have. I let that person get close to me, told him things no one else knew, and…it did not end well."

I closed my eyes at the sound of the pain and anger that tinged his voice. "I'm sorry," I said.

He laughed. "Whatever for? It is I who should apologize for once again boring you with talk of my past."

"You do not bore me," I replied without thinking, unable to look away from his eyes. They softened at my words, and his hand, spread against my back, pressed me a little closer.

When he spoke again, his voice was deeper than usual. "Christopher, I…"

"Please, don't," I begged, looking away. I was doing it to him all over again. Doing it to myself. When I left tonight, Blaine would be disappointed that an intriguing friend disappeared from his life. But I would be heartbroken once more at having found and then relinquished my love to guard both of our lives. I would not and could not put my curse upon him.

"You have no idea what I'm about to say," Blaine said with a laugh, trying to catch my eye.

"Blaine…" I trailed off as something caught my eye. In the closest corner of the room stood Santana, and she was with a golden-haired woman in a blue dress. Santana was playing it the woman's hair and giggling, and as she turned around – Brittany! Brittany was in the ballroom! Santana must have convinced her to come inside. My eyes flew open in a panic and I quickly glanced around the room. Finn and Rachel were dancing some distance away, and I could spy Sir Sandy's hideous purple and orange outfit on the far side of the room, but I suddenly laid eyes on Sebastian, who was leaning against a table nearby and smirking, his eyes flicking from Blaine and I dancing to Santana and Brittany in the corner. There was one person I could not see.

"What is it? Are you quite alright?" Blaine asked urgently, squeezing my hand.

"I-I must leave-" My words were cut off when a hand grabbed the back of the collar of my jacket and yanked me away from Blaine.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Blaine yelled angrily.

Dave's thick fingers gripped the edge of my mask and ripped it off. I heard gasps all around me, but all I could see was Blaine's face, which had gone completely white.

"Kurt?"

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><p><strong>Next chapter: What will Kurt do, now that he has been exposed? How will Blaine react? Will Kurt be cursed for the rest of his life? One chapter to go!<strong>


	26. Chapter 26: Perfect Fit

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I decided not to make you wait too long after that cliffy last chapter, so here you go! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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><p>By the time Brittany caught up with me, I was searching the stables wildly for our horses, about to throw my hands in the air and steal a pair from King Andrew himself.<p>

"Kurt, I'm so sorry." Brittany was crying. "I wanted to dance with Santana so badly, and she convinced me to come inside, and Dave and this tall smirky man saw me-"

"Never mind that!" I cried out. "Just help me find the horses. We must leave now!"

She sniffled but took my hand and we ran to the horses.

"You're only wearing one shoe," she told me as I helped her onto her horse.

"I tripped in my haste; I must have lost the other," I told her, my shaky hands gripping the saddle as I swung myself up onto my horse. I could feel tears stinging in my eyes. "Now quickly, Brittany! We cannot stay a moment longer!"

We rode the horses hard and fast back to Ryerson estate. I jumped down and helped Brittany, even though I felt as though my knees would give out at any second. I could scarcely breathe for the lump in my throat.

"He was calling for you," she told me, her blue eyes wide, her mouth trembling, "he told a knight to fetch his horse."

He was coming here. I knew it before she told me that he would. Blaine would come here, because he was not one to let things go. He would not simply let me leave.

"Take the horses; I haven't much time," I told her, handing her the reigns and dashing inside.

I paid no mind to my fine clothes once I reached my room, tearing them off and throwing them on my bed. I pulled on my servant's garb, pausing only to furiously wipe at the tears trickling down my cheeks. I was a fool. A weak, selfish fool. I had tempted fate, and She had answered my call in the odious form of one David Ryerson.

I hurried down to the kitchens. I could hear the bell chiming throughout the manor as I ran, the bell that summoned all servants to assemble in the main foyer.

I burst through the door.

"Kurt!" Carol exclaimed, pressing her hands to her chest. "Why are you back so soon? What is going on?"

"Blaine's coming here," I told her, pushing past her to the fireplace, "or he's here already." I stuffed my shaking hands into the coals and grasped fistfuls of the cold ashes. "He-he saw me. He knows I'm Kurt…that Christopher is me," I rambled as I rubbed the soot on my face and arms and neck, "D-Dave. He pulled my mask off when I was dancing with Blaine, and Blaine saw me and stared and I-"

I choked back a sob and Carol tried to pull me into her arms. I pushed away. "No there isn't time," I said, wiping my tears and then running my dirty hands through my hair, flattening it against my head. "We all must go to the foyer. I want to get there quickly so I'm simply one of the crowd." I pressed my lips together tightly, thinking of how Blaine's face had lit up when his eyes had roamed over my special outfit.

"Alright, Kurt, let's go." Carol did not argue or try to soothe me.

When we arrived, the hall was filled with servants chattering, their murmurs curious and speculative. Brittany was on the other side of the room, back in her maid's uniform and hugging an enormous grey cat. It appeared the infamous Lord Tubbington had decided to emerge from wherever he dwelled to witness my life crashing down around me.

I slipped in between a stable boy and the chimney sweep, tilting my head down, and pulling the collar of my tunic up to stick it in my mouth, as though I was a simpleton who liked to chew on clothing. I affected a dull, vacant expression, a cross between Finn, Brittany, and my centaur colt, Apple.

The main doors swung open and the chatter rose in volume only to fade away quickly when Blaine walked in, followed by Dave, Finn, Rachel, Sir Sandy, and several of Blaine's Warblers. A hush fell over the crowd of servants at the sight of their crown prince.

"Hello," Blaine called. He was not smiling, and his tone was polite but strained. "I apologize for disturbing you all this evening. I am looking for a young man by the name of Kurt. He has brown hair and blue eyes."

I could feel the gazes of several people nearby flit over to me, but apparently everyone had received instructions not to say a word. I looked up a little, past Blaine. Sir Sandy looked murderous, Finn confused, and Dave looked chastised, his head lowered meekly. Rachel was searching the crowd with hopeful, shining eyes.

"You see, Your Highness," Sir Sandy bellowed in his grating nasal voice, "I am afraid you are quite mistaken. There is no one named Kurt living under this roof. Is that not correct, David?"

"Yes," Dave mumbled, "Kurt doesn't live here anymore."

Blaine ignored them and began walking down the rows of servants. My breaths were coming short and shallow now. I tilted my head down further and stared stupidly at the floor as he drew closer.

And then he was standing in front of me. It was as though all sound dropped away, and all I could hear was the erratic thud of my heart, trying to burst from my ribcage and end my misery. He tucked to fingers under my chin. I wished he would not touch my dirty face with his clean, lovely hands. He tiled my head up, but I refused to meet his eyes, even as tears began to fall on my cheeks, leaving trails through the grime and ash.

"Hello," he said softly, and I knew his words were meant for my ears alone, even as those around me leaned in closer to hear, "I am desperately searching for a man named Kurt. Is it possible that you are he?"

I shook my head adamantly, squeezing my eyes shut tight.

"No? Are you quite sure? Because you see, I saw him – Kurt – tonight, at a ball thrown in my honor, to help me find a royal consort. And he lost his shoe as he left," Blaine continued as Jeffrey rushed up, placing the offending shoe in Blaine's hands. "It's a rather special shoe, glass, and faerie-made. And I'm told that once it finds a suitable wearer, his is the only foot it will fit, so long as that wearer lives."

"That's ridiculous!" Sir Sandy suddenly cried, rushing forward. "Here, David, try on the shoe. I am sure he'll be able to wear it."

Blaine did not even watch as Dave grunted and huffed, trying to pull on a shoe far too narrow for his fat feet. He simply looked at me, and I felt my face flush with shame at what he must have seen: a poor servant boy, dressed in ugly rags and filthy head-to-toe, covered in grime and soot and dirt.

Sir Sandy beckoned Finn forward when Dave gave up and sat, panting and sweating, on a small couch.

"Father," Finn hesitated, glancing at Blaine and then me, "I don't want to try the shoe on."

"Hush, and listen to your papa," Sir Sandy scolded, handing it over to him.

"But I have no wish to marry the prince…begging your pardon, Your Highness," Finn stammered.

"Think nothing of it," Blaine replied, though he did not look away from my face. It was though he was drinking in the sight of me, but I stubbornly stared at the floor.

Sir Sandy insisted that Finn try on the shoe, but it was pointless. Finn's giant feet were obviously too large for the shoe, and he quickly handed it back to Sir Sandy and returned to stand with Rachel.

"Oh!" Sir Sandy affected a dramatic gasp as he let the shoe slip from his fingers and fall to the floor. Several people gasped, but the shoe only clattered against the tiles, remaining intact.

"Faerie-made," Blaine reminded him as Jeffrey bent to retrieve it and handed it to Blaine once more. "It belongs to Kurt, and so only Kurt will be able to wear it."

And then he knelt at my feet, sending a murmur through the surrounding crowd. Sir Sandy stuttered unintelligibly at the sight of the crown prince, in his magnificent and luxurious finery, kneeling before a dirty servant, but Blaine had resumed ignoring him. I shut my eyes and turned my head to the side as Blaine looked up. I could not look at him.

His fingers rested against my ankle. "May I?"

I said nothing, but he lifted up my foot, sliding the ratty slipper I was wearing off and tossing it to the side. He took the beautiful glass shoe and slid it onto my foot. My hands flew to cover my face and my shoulders shook with sobs as Blaine stood up again. I heard Rachel exclaim my name softly.

I jumped a little when I felt Blaine's hands slide from my elbows to cover my hands. I let him pull them away from my face gently, but shook my head once again.

"I'm not," I murmured, fresh tears falling, "I'm not Kurt. I'm not him."

"Yes, you are," Blaine said urgently, "you're…you're my Kurt, and you're here, and you've been here all along, and I thought I'd be so angry if I ever saw you again, but all I want to do is hold you, and I don't understand anything right now, though I'm sure you can explain it all to me. But none of that matters because I've found you, and it's truly you, and I've…I've fallen in love with you all over while you wore a mask and pretended to be a stranger."

My eyes flew open at this and I finally looked at him. His beautiful golden eyes were brimming with tears, and the corner of his lovely smile quivered with emotion as he held my hands over his heart. "You don't," I protested, "you d-don't love me. You can't!"

"I can, I must, and I do." He knelt before me again. "Kurt, I love you. I always have, and I always will. You have ensnared my soul and I never want to be set free…" My heart ached at the sight of him on bended knee, professing his love as though dozens of people were not watching us and hearing every word. "I've never seen a sight more breath-taking than you right now, covered in soot and wearing rags, but here, here and within my reach, and I never want to live another way again. Would you let me, I would spend forever holding you to my heart and doing everything and anything I could to make you feel happy and loved. Marry me," he said simply, eyes imploring, "marry me, Kurt."

I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop the "yes." I couldn't. I couldn't obey him, not now, not when I wanted to more than anything. Never in my life had I wanted to follow and order so intensely that it caused me emotional pain on top of the physical symptoms of my curse.

The physical symptoms hit me as my mouth strained against my shaking hand. I doubled over as the nausea rolled in my stomach and all my joints seared with pain.

"Kurt? What is it?" Blaine asked, standing up to steady me.

"Do it, Kurt," Dave suddenly urged.

"What?" Sir Sandy squawked.

I gasped at Dave's additional order.

"Do it. Marry Prince Blaine, and take your family to the palace with you."

"Ooohhh yes!" Sir Sandy exclaimed, catching on, "Say yes, Kurt, there's a good boy, say yes to the prince, marry him and we'll all move to the palace together."

I shook my head silently as I fell to my knees.

"Just say yes," Dave crowed, "Marry him, Kurt. We shall all live…well, like royalty! Say yes!"

"I don't…I don't understand," I heard Blaine say in alarm over the sound of someone sobbing.

I realized it was I who was sobbing, fighting the waves of pain coursing through my body as I slumped over my knees, my forehead pressed against the floor. Blaine fell to his knees beside me.

I cried out, a wordless wail, clawing at the floor as Sir Sandy and Dave threw order after order at me, weighing me down and ripping my insides to shreds. _Say yes say yes say yes say yes say yes say yes say yes._

I was sure I was dying and the word I needed to say to end my pain, the word I longed to say more than anything was on the tip of my tongue. _Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes_, my mind chanted, pushing me closer to the edge of respite. I had to say it. There was no other way. I would say yes and marry Blaine and take Sir Sandy and Dave to the palace, where they would eat away at the wealth of the royal family. I would place Blaine and his whole family in constant danger. There was no other way. I was going to say it; I just could not stand it anymore.

"NO!"

Sir Sandy and Dave fell silent.

"Wh-what?" Blaine said.

"No!" I shouted, looking up and glaring right at him. He fell back a little, startled. "No, I will not marry you!" My symptoms were gone, draining away immediately, and I was filled with a warm, soothing sensation, tingling in my fingers and toes. I gasped out a laugh.

"I-"

"No! Do you hear me, Blaine? No, I will not marry you! No, I will not marry him," I yelled at Sir Sandy and Dave, sitting up. "I refuse to marry you," I spoke to Blaine again, "and you cannot make me! No one can!" My head spun, delirious and giddy and whirling drunk with this sudden freedom, this sudden power.

"I wouldn't make you, Kurt, I-"

"You can't tell me what to do," I crowed, "no one can tell me what to do! Rachel!" I called at her – my friend! She was my friend once more! – "Tell me to do something."

She stared at me with wide eyes. "I…come here and give me a hug."

"No! No, I will not do that; I will stay right here on the floor." Rachel's eyes bugged out.

Sir Sandy and Dave were staring at me, slack-jawed, and I laughed wildly at the sight. I was sure I looked like quite the madman.

"Kurt, please, what is happening? I don't understand," Blaine said, confused and clearly hurt, as he reached towards me. I clasped his hand with both of mine.

"No, Blaine, don't you see? I refuse to marry you. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," I exclaimed, pulling him close. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pressing my forehead to his and closing my eyes to stop new tears.

"I refuse to marry you," I whispered, "which is exactly why I will."

"You'll…?" Blaine moved his hands to rest tentatively on my hips, his voice rough and deep but completely bewildered.

"I will marry you," I told him softly, opening my eyes to look right into his as he drew back a little in surprise, a smile playing on his lips.

"You will?"

"I will. I love you so." I could not think of the words, the poetry, the adulations he deserved. "I love you. I want to be with you forever. I want to marry you."

He grinned at me as tears spilled over his lashes.

"I promise I will explain everything," I told him, "but first, there is one matter to which I must attend."

I stood up, pulling him up with me, but then let go of his hands and strode over to Dave, who continued to stare at me in amazement. I glared up at him for a moment with disdain, but then took hold of his hand and ripped off the ring on his middle finger.

Father's ring. I gazed at it for a moment before I slid it on to its rightful place. "You will never tell me what to do again," I told him calmly, sparing a glance for Sir Sandy.

I could be apart from my love no longer. I returned to Blaine, thoughts of Dave and Sir Sandy vanishing from my mind.

"Blaine, I must tell you everything," I declared, throwing my arms around his neck and holding him close, melting into his embrace, "You deserve to know and understand it all, from the very beginning."

He ran his hands up and down my back. "I don't care about that right now," he said lowly, "there's only one thing I care about at this moment."

He kept one hand pressed against my lower back while the other snaked up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin lightly, wiping away the last of my tears. My hands fisted in the material of the back of his jacket as my breathing shallowed. He looked at me for a moment, tender and loving, his eyes asking silent permission. I leaned forward, and he met me halfway.

It was just the two of us – Blaine and I – when our lips met, soft, gentle. He surrounded and engulfed me, swirled all around me and inside my head as I felt his mouth move against mine, felt his strong hand against my back, urging me forward so that our bodies pressed flush against one another. I gasped a little when my chest pressed against his, and he took the opportunity to capture my bottom lip between his and then sucked gently.

I swayed a little as he pulled away, my eyes fluttering open and meeting his. He wrapped both arms around my waist and I slid my hands up to cup his face as we laughed breathlessly.

"Kiss me again," he murmured, leaning in close once more.

"No," I replied, and then smiled and pressed my lips to his.

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><p><strong>The end! Stay tuned for the epilogue!<strong>


	27. Epilogue

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Here it is: the epilogue and final installment of Twice Cursed! Enjoy!**

**A couple notes: (a) I have changed from first person to third person narrative for the epilogue. The first half is from Blaine's perspective, the second Kurt's. (b) I just wanted an excuse to write them making out, so this is basically just gratuitous fluff and kissing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Ella Enchanted.**

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><p>Blaine was just about to snuff out the candles by his bed when he heard a soft knock on his chamber door.<p>

"You may come in," he called, curiosity coloring his voice.

The door shifted open partway and Kurt slid in, shutting it behind him.

"Kurt," Blaine said, not trying to hide the tenderness in his voice, "what are you doing here? You should be sleeping. And we're not supposed to see each other before the ceremony tomorrow."

Kurt tsked, slinking over to the foot of Blaine's bed. "Such a traditionalist," he teased, crawling onto the large bed and over to where Blaine sat, straddling his lap. Blaine's hands found their way to Kurt's hips. "I thought I would check on my husband-to-be. Make sure he wasn't having any second thoughts the night before our wedding."

"I could never have second thoughts about you," Blaine said, squeezing Kurt's hips gently and then letting his hands travel from the waist of his simple breeches, sliding up and underneath Kurt's nightshirt. Kurt hummed and Blaine savored the delicious vibrations in his torso traveling through his soft, smooth skin and onto Blaine's palms as he rubbed Kurt's back.

"May I kiss you?" he asked, tilting his head up a little. After Kurt had told him about the faerie's curse, Blaine had been horrified that he had ever unwittingly given Kurt an order. When Kurt told him about the kiss his step-brother had forced upon him years ago, making him quite wary of intimacy, Blaine had vowed never to tell Kurt what to do again.

"That's sweet but stilly," Kurt had laughed when Blaine explained his odd way of phrasing things after a few weeks, "the beauty is that now you can tell me what to do all you like, and I don't have to heed your commands unless I want to."

Blaine had since relaxed in everyday conversation, but when it came to sensual matters, he refused to tell Kurt what to do or simply assume he could do whatever he liked.

"Yes, of course," Kurt said, his lids heavy. He tangled his fingers in Blaine's curls as Blaine leaned up and pressed their mouths together.

Their kiss was sweet and chaste at first, but then Kurt let out a little sigh and pressed closer. Encouraged, Blaine traced Kurt's bottom lip with his tongue and quickly licked his way into Kurt's mouth when Kurt's lips granted him access. Blaine moaned softly at the taste of Kurt's mouth, the feeling of their tongues sliding together. He flicked his tongue along the roof of Kurt's mouth, making him shudder. He coaxed Kurt's tongue into his own mouth, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as Kurt eagerly massaged his tongue with his own.

They broke apart with a gasp, and Kurt covered Blaine's face with gentle kisses, his fingers massaging Blaine's scalp. "You are so gorgeous," Blaine rasped, pressing a kiss to Kurt's jaw, "you cannot imagine my desire for you."

"I think I can," Kurt contradicted him, breathless, "for it likely matches the desire I feel for you."

Blaine nipped the soft, tender skin just under Kurt's chin, and then soothed it with a kiss. He trailed Kurt's throat with open-mouthed kisses, worshiping the delicate skin with his lips and tongue. He could feel Kurt's rapid heartbeat under his mouth, could hear him softly say, "Blaine," as his hands slid down to grip the back of Blaine's shirt.

He brought his mouth back up to Kurt's, letting his lips part at Kurt's silent request, and soon their tongues were entangled once more. Their kiss was more urgent now, more heated. Blaine's head swirled with desire as he kneaded the flesh of Kurt's back firmly. His hands slid lower, lower, finally cupping Kurt's bottom and pushing down, grinding their hips together.

They both froze. "We needn't stop," Kurt whispered against Blaine's lips, his eyes closed, "I-I am a little nervous, but I want you, and I love you so." He opened his eyes, and Blaine was staring into dark, brilliant blue.

With no small effort, Blaine moved his hands up to the small of Kurt's back. "I love you, too, but we must restrain ourselves," he said in a strangled voice.

Kurt drew back, pouting playfully. "We've waited for three months together, and for years apart."

Blaine kissed him teasingly. "And we can wait one more night. Or are you so determined to make a dishonest man of me?"

Kurt let out a delicate snort, but shifted to sit beside him on the bed, pulling his legs up, his cheeks flushing. "As if you could ever be dishonest."

Blaine sobered, taking Kurt's hand into his own. He brought Kurt's hand to his mouth and kissed his palm gently. "Father may have passed a law, but many Kyrrians disapprove of our union. If we are to rule over them as kings and set an example for other such unions, I don't wish to give them any ammunition for their skepticism or intolerance. When Mother married Father, they waited until their wedding night. When Grandfather was poised to become Grandmother's royal consort, they waited as well. It is Kyrrian royal tradition, and I want no less for you."

"Well, when you say it like that, I cannot help but agree to saying 'no.' But just for tonight, my love," Kurt added, turning and wrapping an arm around Blaine's chest, nuzzling closer, "tomorrow night…"

"I vow that tomorrow night, no matter how we are intimate, only our love will be present. The kingdom of Kyrria shall have no place in our marriage bed," Blaine promised, tracing an X over his heart. Kurt giggled at him, and they snuggled closer. Blaine closed his eyes and breathed in Kurt's scent. He smelled like freshly baked bread; he had probably been down in the kitchens with Carol earlier.

"I suppose I should retire to my bedchamber," Kurt said grudgingly a few minutes later, yawning, "after all, I wouldn't want to fall asleep in your arms and set the servant's tongues wagging. All the gossip and nothing to show for it!"

"I'll walk you to your chambers," Blaine offered, moving to get off the bed.

"I found my way here; I can find my way back," Kurt assured him with a smile, "but do walk me to your door and kiss me goodnight, if it would please you."

Blaine did just that, holding Kurt close and brushing his lips over Kurt's gently. "It certainly does please me."

* * *

><p>Because of the delicacy of their situation, they had decided to hold a private wedding ceremony. It was held in one of the palaces grander gardens. Even though Blaine had far more guests, Kurt was happy to see many familiar smiling faces of his own acquaintance, from Rachel, crying immediately and hanging on Finn's arm, to Brittany dressed in fine silks and holding Santana's hand, to Mercedes, smiling her beautiful smile at him, to Tina and Mike, calm and collected under the shade of an oak tree, to Artie, sitting in a chair with wheels and accompanied by his parents.<p>

Dave and Sir Sandy had not been invited, and though Kurt had sent his mother a letter, he was secretly glad it appeared that it had not reached her in time, because he did not want her turning his marriage to Blaine into a personal triumph of her own.

Blaine's parents walked him down the aisle, littered with soft blue flower petals, and Carol and Kurt followed after, arms linked. Carol kissed Blaine and then Kurt, her cheeks wet with tears. Kurt hugged the Queen and shook the King's hand, and Blaine did the same.

Then it was the two of them, dressed in white and holding hands and Chancellor Figgins prattled on about their official duties as future King and royal consort of Kyrria. And then they were saying their vows. Kurt could not hold back his tears, and he felt Blaine's hands trembling in his own.

"Your eternal bond has been formed; I invite you to…" Chancellor Figgins hesitated, clearing his throat, "seal it with a kiss."

Kurt melted against Blaine, feeling their first kiss all over again.

As members of the crowd either clapped politely or cheered with exuberance, one hooded figure stepped forward. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw several of the Warblers, serving as guards, reach for the hilts of their swords.

The figure pushed the hood of her cloak back, and the faintest scent of flowers filtered through the air.

"Terri," Kurt said nervously, glancing at Blaine meaningfully. Blaine's eyes widened in alarm, "what a…lovely surprise."

Terri rushed forward, her eyes glimmering with tears, her hands clasped to her bosom. "Truly this is the most beautiful wedding I have ever seen. And for a love so pure! I have a gift for you…"

"Oh, you are too kind," Blaine protested weakly.

"Really, Terri, it's too much," Kurt added, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Nonsense!" Terri reached into the depths of her robes, and Kurt and Blaine both winced. Kurt felt Blaine lace their fingers together and squeeze comfortingly. Over Terri's shoulder, Kurt could see Carol glaring at the back of Terri's head.

"Voila!" Terri pulled out a small object, presenting it to them in the palm of her hand. It was a tiny golden box.

"A trick box," she told them with pride, "it remains the same size, but anything you put in it will fit, and only the two of you can open it."

Blaine picked up the box with a hesitant smile.

"Thank you, Terri," Kurt said, relieved, "it is truly a good gift."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading :)<strong>


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